The Return To Jungles - Tarzan AU
by tutb88
Summary: Based on Edgar Rice Burroughs' novel "The Return of Tarzan", where Charles is obviously a curious professor, Emma is plotting, Alex is angry, Shaw is probably psychotic, spies are spying and Erik's only wish is to come back home.
1. Chapter 1

_"…_ _As many more individuals of each species are born than can possibly survive; and as, consequently, there is a frequently recurring struggle for existence, it follows that any being, if it vary however slightly in any manner profitable to itself, under the complex and sometimes varying conditions of life, will have a better chance of surviving…"_

'Doctor McCoy, open the door, please!' a sudden, irritatingly loud cry was followed by the no less irritating succession of knocks, which resonated in Charles' ears with disturbing tenacity.

'What's happened, Sean? And will you be so kind and keep quiet – professor is not feeling very well at the moment and …'

Charles turned the page, desperately trying and so far steadily failing to block out the noise.

"… _and thus be naturally selected. From the strong principle of inheritance, any selected variety will tend to propagate its new and modified form…"_

'Yes, I understand that, but what do you expect me to do?' Sean's persistent whispering was not better than Sean's normal voice. 'You know how he is, he won't listen to me!'

'Can't say, that you are wrong, but I really don't understand, what do you want from me,' the reply was laced with barely concealed wariness.

It seems that whatever is going on out there, Charles ought to face it soon. The sooner – the better, actually. Having spent a lot of time trying to use reading as means to fight off insistent headache, left him exhausted. His favorite book, worn from constant rereading, has drained its effectiveness after he'd read it how many times – maybe, seven or six during this week's voyage. Charles put it aside, attempted to smooth his hair and predictably lost the never-ending battle again, straightened his shirt collar and mentally readied himself for the inevitable.

He opened the cabin door and was met with his guilty-looking companions. Interrupted in the midst of the discussion, Hank and Sean were startled and for almost thirty seconds Charles enjoyed nervous silence like pure bliss.

'Sean, Hank, what's going on?' he had to croak the second half of the sentence. Apparently, the prolonged staying inside his cabin made him forget how to speak – or was it his sore throat.

Hank, ever the professional, was looking him up and down with worried eyes, taking in his rumpled appearance.

'Professor, you still have a fever I would not recommend you…'

'I'm very sorry to interrupt, but Alex went and got into some trouble again. There was a fight on a lower deck, and this time around captain told him, that he'll lock him up somewhere in the hold. If you want to know, it was about gambling again. Well, Alex lost his temper again and called him…but this part you probably don't want to know…'

Sean took a deep breath and for the first time during his monologue looked Charles in the eye.

'Holy goodness, professor, you look awful,' uttered Sean, straightforward as usual, 'Come to think of it, you look just like my uncle after eight pints of beer and that strange whisky, which smells like…'

Some time has passed before Charles realized that somewhere in the middle of speech he was disconnected from reality.

'And then he had almost died,' continued Sean.

'Sean, this is not an appropriate time for your family tales,' Hank joined the conversation on time, because Charles' brain has started to form a stupid idea that his head would simply explode from pressure. Wouldn't it be a long awaited relief, he mused to himself.

'As for Alex, Sean, you did right that you came to me. I'll be grateful if you lead the way,' he stopped to clear his throat before adding, 'so, I can access the situation and see how I can help Alex.'

Charles made a suggestive gesture and Sean hurried along the corridor.

'Professor, are you really feeling better? Any headache, dizziness?'

'No, I'm fine. My headache is almost gone, can you believe it?' lied Charles on the spot and immediately regretted it. Whom is he trying to fool? Certainly, not Hank.

The foolish habit formed long time ago, to lie in response to questions, provoking sympathy, makes itself known from time to time. Hank is his doctor. He would have trusted him with his life if necessary. Without Henry's invaluable assistance it would've been much more difficult to organize the expedition – even as spare as this has been. Young doctor was a promising specialist and a kindred spirit when it came to research or some new possibility of discovery. In addition to all above, he instantly agreed to join Charles from the very beginning, when the whole idea was an obscure matter and Charles shared it without any second thought. Hank was great, but, if only he had not acted like the venerable colleague in duty to Charles' wishes all the time, it would be preferable. Surely, they spend a great amount of time together, emerged in interesting discussions but Charles, given his hunger for human contact, was desperately craving for more.

Wonderful, it's high time to start unnecessary brooding and to wallow in self-pity. He feels as if he's already become an old, lonely man with relationship issues. Cold is getting to him hard.

His current state of mind was justified by the fact that it all went wrong from the very day they boarded the ship. That first day was craved into his memory not only due to the hectic baggage checks, another one of Alex's infamous tricks, him, getting a fever, accompanied by the parade of all other symptoms, but also there was Cain. Cain, whom he hadn't seen in a while, was travelling on the same ship. Deity over there must dislike him or even hate, decided Charles. As a result, he had a descent pretext for locking up in his cabin in company of Darwin and other authors. Small mercies do exist.

If he was superstitious, he would have thought that the source and cause of his bad luck was his great-grandfathers watch. All the trouble began after that unfortunate incident. He was very embarrassed by the consequences of it – after one very vigorous celebration of his thesis, finally having got a degree, Charles, drunk mostly because of sheer joy and excitement, was caught up in a scuffle with a couple of friends. Nothing serious and no one's hurt, except of his watch, which by ridiculous coincidence, almost crumbled beneath his friend's foot. And it was not Matthew's fault, of course it wasn't, Charles has assured him of it. He told poor Matthew that it was a meaningless gift from a distant cousin. Never mind, that he didn't have any of the kind. The lid was creased and the mechanism was in need of good repair. He'll definitely do something about it but later. Being responsible heir has never been his priority but this time he realized that the legacy of Xavier's was in his hands, and he wasn't thinking about the watch.

* * *

'An attractive specimen. I'd say very much so,' drawled Emma, turning to face the fair-haired young girl in a nearby chair, who's just dropped the fashion magazine she was reading on her lap.

'But, countess,' she started to whisper, blush already painting her pale face and neck, 'he might hear you. Excuse me, but this is indecent! I'd never…'

'My dear Jane, you may choose to listen attentively, because right now I'm going to give you a good and, please mind it, absolutely free advice. So, my dear, you have to enjoy the beautiful view whenever and wherever you can. Always. No matter the circumstances. And while my companion and your spouse are playing poker, we can also have our share of entertainment. This is only fair, don't you agree?'

Erik turned around in no time to meet the piercing eyes of a beautiful blonde and catch the remnants of the conversation. He walked on by and soon leaned against the railing, inhaling fresh air with ecstasy of the man long deprived. A couple of weeks before, he's been living in anticipation. He's coming home. Erik is coming back to Africa. Of course, in retrospect, Erik hasn't harbored any illusions. No one's waiting for him in Africa, no one obviously remembers him, but, nevertheless, Africa was the one place he considered his home. He was born in Africa, grew up in Africa and his real parents were buried on the continent.

Prolonged stay in a confined oppressive space with these so called civilized people, started to get on his nerves. Many years he'd observed the same performances and false pretenses. During his first visit to London, his parents-in-law have taken him to the theatre. Initially, he was overwhelmed with new feelings and impressions. However, after a string of performances he somewhat lost every interest in the theatrical play. After all, the real world is much more fun to observe, the only difference between two – the first one was rehearsed and the second always contained an element of surprise in it. Since then, the choice was made. Melodramatic suffering and idle passion were not satisfying any more. His father-in-law used to point out that Erik, having lived a better part of his life outside human society, possessed a special gift. He called it a "natural vision". As a rule, that was the moment, when his foster mother stepped in, slightly exasperated by her husband's phrasing, telling Erik to treat all people well, speaking about mistakes and forgiveness, strengths and weaknesses. She'd never tried to prove a point – she simply talked to him for a while until he started to open up bit by bit.

The independence of his decisions was intact. He thought, he listened to Eisenhards out of courtesy, somewhat reluctantly, and only in a couple of years he was surprised to notice that a feeling, which can be described as peace was forming deep inside.

Four years later there had been a fire. A few years Erik spent aimlessly wandering around Europe on his own. He'd never stayed in one city for longer than a month.

This spring in Paris he met someone. Anna Marie was smart, gorgeous and charming beyond measure. Also, thanks to her, he's got acquainted with the work of French secret police firsthand. Well, he's had the chance to participate and truth be told – it was exciting. Danger made him feel more alive than he'd felt in decades. Afterwards, Erik's expression of gratitude was met by genuine laugh. Anna Marie invited him to her wedding but Erik politely refused.

She was not offended at all, thus being aware of his intentions to go to the continent, had asked for a favor.

Erik caught himself mulling on his current boredom and smiled, feeling bitterness with a hint of despair. He must acknowledge the truth, however difficult it may be – the well-fed life definitely has its impact on his personality.

But for some gifts of civilization, like good games and alcohol, Erik was sort of grateful.

He turned abruptly and was met with the same piercing gaze from before. Perhaps, even in utterly boring places like this one, true predators can be found. Erik smiled to himself and addressed the blonde with a curt nod.

The main hall, where the restaurant and the excellent bar provided booze for many gamblers, currently occupying several round tables in the middle of the room, was full of smoke and noise. Erik chose a quiet place in the corner and readied himself. His posture, only seeming reluctant and relaxed, has allowed him to blend in rather easily. Sooner or later something interesting was bound to happen. Erik would gladly enjoy the show.

* * *

So it happened that the long awaited conversation with Alex was held in the evening on the deck. Twilight was blissfully quiet and calm. Previously, Charles had to apply his talent for diplomacy to the unbelievable extent; he has always being secretly proud and even considered himself gifted in this special sphere – and yes, he'd settle the problem with losings, and yes, he was confident that Alex hadn't cheated, and, of course, this wouldn't happen again.

Now, Charles is leaning against the railing, silently wondering where to start. Evening air is fresh and pleasantly warm. His headache's receded to slight thrumming. And Charles has asked himself one more time – why he had permanently ignored Hank's advice to go out and breathe some fresh air. He was too absorbed in his physical and emotional misery. Such a loss...

Alex, hands clasped behind his back, was standing a few feet to his right, waiting. Suddenly, Charles has come to his senses just on time to realize that he was being silent for more than ten minutes. He decided to start with the main question.

'Alex, why do you refuse my help every single time?'

'I did not ask you to interfere! And you are not be able to do anything, with all due respect,' maintaining courteous tone was not an easy task for Alex.

'You have great future, Alex. Why do you want to destroy it? You know, I have certain obligations and your guardian…'

'Ah, you don't suppose that I'll take that for granted, do you?' the indignant mockery in his voice has signaled Charles, that Alex is retreating again, using his harsh words as a shield. 'I don't understand why I am here. But maybe you do. How immature of me! Well, as ironically as this may sound, this life is mine and I want to live it the way I chose. Not the old man, not you!'

'Alex!' Charles' attempt to rein Alex in was left unnoticed. A sudden slash of pain, very intense and quick in the right side of his head made him grasp the railings.

'I know everything about losing parents, and believe me, I'm able to realize how you feel. Not exactly, but still,' Charles sighed. 'The sooner you understand that you're not as alone as it may seem to you, it'll eventually get better. You have a lot of possibilities before you, a lot of time to find out what kind of man do you really want to become.'

'Sounds great!' replied Alex with false cheerfulness. 'So I have to continue on the path my uncle suggests for me, though I'll never be a descent lawyer and everybody's aware of it, until he quits the stage. Then, the inheritance's mine.'

'Would you listen to me? I asked your uncle to give you this chance to see the world, because I thought it'd be good for you to leave England.'

'What do you know about me? I'm not one of your students who will gladly walk in your shadow and repeat your every word!'

'That's completely unfair,' bristled Charles. 'Please, tell me how I can make it right.'

'The answer to this question hasn't changed since the first time you've asked. And this is my answer: leave me alone. Don't try to help me. You act it because our parents were friends, right? Professor Xavier, I'm not your student, and certainly not your friend. And by the way,' he delivered a final blow with the cruelty of young and hurt. 'I saw you on the deck with this Marko – your relative, right? You probably like to think about yourself as such a generous benefactor; savior of orphans and shit, but you can't even defend yourself.'

Charles clutched the iron railing – the pain flared up his knuckles. Black dots were dancing before his eyes and, for a split second, he could not feel his feet. Strong hand steadied him, gripping his shoulder. Alex, his face a mixture of anger, rage and, strangely, alarm.

'I'm sorry. I'm… You should lie down,' Alex went all red in the face, was it caused by guilt, embarrassment or by residual anger – Charles didn't attempt to guess.

Instead, he focused his eyes on Alex's face, gathering the remnants of self-control, and said, quietly but distinctly:

'Leave me alone.'

There had to be something in his voice or facial expression, because Alex retreated immediately, clumsily taking his hand away.

Some time has passed, before Charles found it in him to stand on his own and let go of the railing. His instant panic at the mentioning of Cain, fatigue and sharp headache didn't allow him to focus. He needs to sit down. Needs to put himself together. Charles noticed an empty armchair next to the wall. He had to admit that the chair was damn comfortable. He massaged his temples and threw back his head. Charles tried to think about different pleasant things – new plants and animals he was going to discover, the charming cousin of Matthew; soon he'd meet Mr. Howlett – they have known each other only through correspondence, but Charles felt that they'd work well together. His thoughts mixed with a touch of noisy music from the inside, the lapping of waives against the side of the ship and distant commotion. A light breeze touched his face and brought the smell of salty water and warm, tropical night. Charles hadn't noticed when he fell asleep.

Having woken up, he felt surprisingly relaxed.

Evening merged into night. The stars were twinkling in the deep-blue; the light ribbon of the Milky Way proudly divided the dome of the sky into two parts. The universe was magnificent and Charles was overwhelmed with the candid greatness of it.

His body was well rested, and mind was clear. Unusual burst of energy pushed him to his feet. Charles walked along the deck, smiling to himself. Then, he stopped and listened. At the edge of perception a strange anxiety was brewing. No, there was something. His natural curiosity made him cross the distance to the stern of the ship. Night was motionless and Charles clearly saw a figure of the man, standing near the railing. The stranger leaned on the railing with a lazy grace – his eyes were turned towards the ocean and the posture betrayed the person, immersed in one's thoughts.

Suddenly, like out of nowhere, a mysterious figure detached itself from the shadows near the wall and slipped to the stranger so quickly that Charles didn't have time to realize what's going on. He hadn't even seen the blow, but before he started to process something, the man was already falling into the Atlantic Ocean.

No, thas couldn't possibly happen, he panicked. But he's not crazy. Just a moment ago there was a man and now… Where's the other one? He frantically turned around.

Think, Charles, think. Now is not a proper time to be concerned about imaginary enemies. A person is down there in the cold ocean waters. Then, why didn't he hear a cry. Well, yes! Charles cursed his stupidity. He screamed.

'Man overboard! Help!'

His voice quickly turned into inarticulate wheeze, but judging by the light flaring on the deck and the approaching footsteps, has managed to attract attention.

'Slow down the ship!' he shouted again.

No, it looks as if he doesn't have time. Why didn't he hear a sound? Maybe, that person was severely injured, maybe unconscious. But the ship was moving on. Charles needs to do something before it is too late. He can tell where he fell; he can do it.

To hell with everything, he swore to himself, and cried out to the crew member approaching him:

'Inform the captain and slow down! I'm going after him!'

The engine finally slowed down.

Charles took a deep breath and jumped.

'Wait, you idiot! What are you doing?!'

'Stop this lunatic!'

Next second he hit the water so hard that his mind blacked out for a moment.

* * *

When Erik fell into the ocean, his first impulse was to swim away from the moving vessel. It didn't occur to him to scream for help. Firsthand, he wouldn't be heard at this rate. Secondly, he always relied on himself. He could blame no one but himself for being too careless.

Idly, he started thinking. What were his chances that he'd be picked up or would get to the closest shore on his own? The chances were extremely slim.

Something was happening on the moving ship. The wind brought the sounds of screaming and alarm in his direction. The vessel lighted up and slowed down.

A dark silhouette flashed before his eyes only for a brief moment. Someone's jumped in the ocean to search for him, someone's noticed. Erik swam toward the ship, hoping that his supposed savior had enough brains to avoid being dragged down by the engine propeller.

Erik was close enough to see the exact moment when the person in question has suddenly disappeared under the water. Erik sped up, took a deep breath and dived. By sheer luck, he managed to grab the other's hand and pull the body closer. He wrapped his free arm around the man's torso and they broked the surface together.

Erik immediately let go of him, but stayed close just in case.

The moonlight helped him to distinguish the pale youthful face and seemingly huge dark eyes of the man, who has jumped after Erik in the Atlantic Ocean. Strange, but he couldn't remember him both among the passengers and the crew. And face like this he would memorize for sure.

The next surprise came later, when the stranger's eyes have founded his and his face was lit with a wide sincere smile. He was casually grinning, as if he was insanely happy to see Erik, as if he hadn't nearly died just a minute ago, as if he has been jumping from the ship every day. To say Erik was puzzled was an understatement.

'Sir, are you all right?' he uttered urgently, stopping to cough. 'I'm so glad, that I've seen you. You know, it was dark and I thought that I was tricked by the shadows. But you are not imaginary. Definitely not! Oh sorry, I haven't introduced myself…'

That was the very night, when Erik met Charles Xavier.


	2. Chapter 2

They were taken back on board by a small life-boat. Xavier has nearly fallen overboard again, when it was his turn to step out. Erik managed to catch him by the collar of his waistcoat.

On the deck a crowd was waiting for them. Aside from the captain, his first officer, an irritated ship doctor and a few sailors, a bunch of sleepy passengers was hunched nearby. By captain's order, the passengers were dispersed from the deck very quickly.

A tall young man with a doctor's bag immediately ran to Xavier's side and started muttering constant stream of questions, simultaneously taking his pulse and fussing all over him.

Erik looked at Xavier once more, partly to make sure that he's not dreamed him up – a completely soaked, shivering man, who has attempted a polite conversation in the open ocean, a few hundred miles from the coast. The absurdity of the situation has clawed at him now and then.

Minor problems aside. Erik will find him later in order to express his gratitude properly. First things first. He needed to insure the safety of one valuable package. He briefly exchanged some words with the captain, promised him that he'd explain the situation later and hurried to his cabin using the pretext of changing into dry clothes.

The corridor was dark but darkness has never stopped him before. Of course, they had sent someone good, but Erik wouldn't be caught unaware twice in a row. As expected, the inside of his cabin was well and truly crushed. The inability to perform a decent search without turning down furniture was either evidence of haste or utter lack of professionalism. Whoever they were, they were obviously thinking him a fool, hiding documents in the closet or under the pillow.

Time has finally come to visit his old new friends and Erik knew where they could possibly be.

* * *

Emma was furious. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of surrender to emotions. Now, she's planning to channel her frustration. There was this person… However, she's seriously doubted the fact that this young woman was human. She glanced in her direction – here she was, sitting and watching Emma with her expressionless gaze like a pretty, but soulless doll. Emma has experienced an irresistible urge to do something, to cause physical harm, everything to wipe that frozen expression off her face. And where does William find them?

'Honey, I hope you do understand that I'm very angry now and you realize why.'

'Ma'am, I follow orders. And colonel's orders were: to eliminate the French spy, to destroy the package if found and to leave the ship. Your task was to provide me with a cover story. I'll steal the boat and leave the ship before dawn. The friendly vessel is probably following us right now on the safe distance. The agent's neutralized. The papers have disappeared, but my priorities were clear.'

'Laura, don't you find it strange, that exactly after your departure from the deck, it's become a little bit noisy? Your actions hadn't gone unnoticed. And if they are pulling him abroad right now, better pray him dead, otherwise…'

'Everything was calculated in advance,' her monotonous voice suited her face, 'the fall from the deck that high while the ship's moving will cause the loss of consciousness. Since the day of departure, I've carefully studied his habits. He usually doesn't speak with anyone, travels alone, so his absence won't be noticed for a long time. He always spends time on the deck after midnight. This is the perfect time and place to get rid of him easily and quietly.'

'A pity. In this case, you miscalculated, my dear.'

Emma got an empty look in response.

'You, my little girl, know nothing about men. I bet my reputation that our Herr Eisenhardt could possibly swim to the continent on his own, had he decided to do so,' maybe she exaggerated a bit, but it was necessary to teach William's lap dog a lesson. And Emma was a very capable teacher.

'Most importantly, I'm angry because you've destroyed my plans,' she let the irritation leak in her voice. 'Old duke and young, attractive widow. The couple made in heaven. I'd like to mention, that I selected candidates for three years, studied their awful preferences, spend a fortune to bribe the servants, compromised a couple of distant relatives, spend a whole year pretending to be heartbroken and how did this end? Laura came and ruined everything,' she bit her lip in frustration. Oh, how she wished and not for the first time to be able to get into someone's head and erase compromising memories.

She must act quickly and wisely. That old fogy had cost her too much. And who would have thought! This bitch will pay for it.

Suddenly, the girl stiffened and jumped to her feet. One powerful blow – and the cabin door swung open. Eisenhardt stood on the threshold just as she has previously predicted, smug and dangerous. Emma couldn't but appreciate the view presented by wet clothes.

Laura moved like lightning. Her opponent stood perfectly still. Emma always wondered where the knives came from. Thin blade materialized in Laura's hand as if out of thin air. Eisenhardt gave her a chance to approach him very closely and dodged to the side at the last second, grabbing her arm. Knife fell on the cabin's floor with a thud. Laura landed a kick but was thrown back with a considerable force. Normal person wouldn't have stood up after the blow, but our heroine has smoothly risen to her feet.

Well, that's it, thought Emma.

'Enough!' she said sweetly. 'First one to move without my order to do so, will get a bullet.'

Emma cocked the gun in Laura's direction.

'You jump very fast dear but I shoot faster. Same for you, sir.'

'You may call me by my name,' smirked Eisenhardt. 'Don't pretend that you haven't been following me around from the very beginning.'

Emma smiled wryly. Someone has clearly forgotten that only half an hour ago was tricked by a rookie. Cold weight of revolver nicely fitted her hand.

'Laura, honey, it was the last drop in the ocean of my infinite patience. Now, you will disappear from my room and from the ship. I really don't care how you'll manage it. And if I see you one more time, I'll shoot you without hesitation. I'm sure, Herr Eisenhardt here will be happy to provide a decent alibi.'

'You own deals are more important to you than the mission,' calmly noted Laura, and Emma was tempted to end her here and now.

'I'd advise you to hold your tongue.'

'He'll hear about it.'

'I've no doubt,' she decided to keep this young prodigy at gunpoint until she disappeared.

Emma counted to fifteen and lowered the gun.

Eisenhardt looked at her and grimly stated:

'It's not loaded.'

'Then, you're better than I originally thought,' those men, always looking for compliments. Anyway, she's happy to provide.

'More attentive, that's all,' he shrugged and turned to close the door. 'When your pseudo-cousin attacked me with a knife I saw you in the mirror above the dresser. It was evident, that you've unloaded the gun. The bullets are in your pocket.'

'I have to admit, you surprised me twice.'

Eisenhardt raised an eyebrow.

'Honestly, I hate guns. They are dangerous and unpredictable. There is always a chance of ricochet, especially in the closed-off space.'

'A sensible choice, I admit. Must compliment your…'

He was interrupted by the knock. Emma put a robe on her back dress and ruffled her hair. She gestured Eisenhardt to stay silent. He nodded in agreement and leaned against the wall near the door.

'Countess, are you all right?' an agitated male voice echoed the female one. 'We've heard suspicious noise!'

'I have no idea,' cooed Emma, rubbing her eyes. 'I was reading that exciting novel you gave me, Jane. Was so absorbed that fell asleep without turning off the light. I'm sorry if I disturbed you by accident.'

'Oh, no! We are sorry,' squealed Jane. 'This commotion made me so worried. Someone tried to commit suicide tonight, can you imagine it?'

'Jane, my dear, I'd happily listen to you, but, unfortunately, I'm very tired,' it was rather rude, but Emma decided to be abrupt.

'Excuse us, we were so worried. Good night!'

'Good night, Jane. Jacques.'

Finally. They are gone.

'What a nuisance…' dryly commented Emma and addressed Eisenhardt. 'Have a seat. You and I have something to discuss.'

'Like what?'

'For example, I'm curious, what's made rich, intelligent man, heir to two titles, participate in the games played by secret service. Are you bored? Restless? Insane? Is it really so entertaining, Herr Eisenhardt, or should I call you ser Erik Lensherr…'

'Thank you for your help, though, I suspect that you've been planning to get rid of this young protégé of yours before my arrival,' he stepped to the door. 'Excuse me, madam, but we have nothing to talk about.'

'Lord! How terrible of me!' she clasped her hands theatrically. What? Emma is allowed some grand gestures.

'Do you always regret accidentally helping anyone?' sardonically questioned Eisenhardt.

'No, I overdid my part,' she shook her head. 'I'm not playing noble any more. I have your documents. The scheme is as simple as ever.'

'I refuse.'

'Why so impatient? Hear me out, my dear. I know what happened that night a couple of years ago. I know that in the depths of your heart, you are suspicious. That fire was not an accident. Now it's more interesting, isn't it?'

Eisenhardt looked as if he would explode with anger. Her words revived his long-buried pain – that was as clear as day.

'It took me a lot of time to gather evidence,' continued Emma meanwhile. His feelings are written on his face. Could that become more amusing?

'Think for some time and come back in the afternoon. See you on the deck. Don't involve anybody. I have useful friends here, just to be safe.'

He silently stood up and opened the door.

'Sweet dreams, Eisenhardt!'

* * *

Early in the morning Erik did first thing he deemed necessary – checked the safety of documents. Previously, the idea to hide them in plain sight seemed ingenious. When he found the metal case empty, he nearly crumpled it in his hands. Irritated and angry, Erik hoped that fresh air of the deck will help him to put thoughts in order. No such luck. The weather outside was wonderful and a lot of people gathered on the deck. Chattering reached his ears. One would think it was everybody's inclination to discuss the last night's incident.

He's heard the story about a madman, who tried to catch a mermaid in the ocean, and this was only the top of the iceberg. Next was about a drunkard, who fell abroad inebriated and thus miraculously stayed alive. The suicide attempt was among the favorites. General audience always appreciated cheap drama. Strangely, but Xavier was not there, dispelling these ridiculous rumors. And it was good that Erik's name never came out. Captain was another one of Anna Marie's friends – he's certainly covered for him.

He found the right cabin with steward's help. Abruptly, the door opened after the first knock. Erik awkwardly stood, his hand frozen in the motion. Xavier blinked at him and then blushed, embarrassed. He was waiting for someone else, someone familiar, realized Erik.

In daylight, Xavier seemed a little older, his eyes not dark, but disturbingly blue. Chestnut longish hair, most likely wavy, was now sticking out in all available directions. He was a couple of inches shorter and therefore Erik's gesture looked utterly stupid – as if Erik was going to pat him.

Another foolish situation from the world of human relationships. No instructions available.

Hell, why are they standing there just silently staring at each other? Erik meaningfully cleared his throat out of desperation.

Xavier didn't react and he said the first thing which occurred to him.

'That crazy-suicidal-lunatic talk has finally driven me from the deck,' Erik cursed himself for the worst conversational starter imaginable.

Fortunately, the man did not consider it tactless and broke into a recognizable grin. The atmosphere shifted and Erik involuntary smiled in response.

'My apologies,' Xavier fidgeted for a brief moment.

'Please, come in and feel yourself at home,' he backed up his offer by literally dragging Erik inside.

So, Erik didn't really notice how he founded himself sitting in the plush armchair opposite the same item of furniture. Nervously muttering something, Xavier tried to free the second armchair from books and stacks of crumpled paper.

'How amazing that you decided to come, my friend! That night was a very chaotic one, and I apologize for the terrible faux pas, but I didn't get your name, sir?...'

Amused, Erik noticed how Xavier's cheekbones were slowly changing their colour from pink to crimson.

'Erik Lensherr, pleased to make an acquaintance.'

Instantly, he tried to cover his slip.

'Right now, I have to travel incognito,' added Erik in a tone, suggesting than no further inquiry would be welcomed.

Xavier nodded thoughtfully, seemingly to himself.

'Understood… Would you like something to drink?'

He produced a bottle of brandy and two glasses out of somewhere. Brandy in the morning must have an interesting effect on the incoming day, mused Erik, but soon he remembered the scheduled appointment with the woman known as "countess", who tricked him twice and took the offered glass. From this perspective, brandy seemed an excellent idea.

'Mr. Xavier, I came to…'

'There's no need to be formal. Call me Charles.'

'Well, … Charles, I came to express my gratitude. What I'm trying to say is…'

Erik was interrupted again.

'No, no. Sorry, but this isn't necessary!' Xavier was shaking his head in an animated fashion, floppy hair falling into his eyes.

'Everybody would do it. It's only natural.'

'Do you think so?' Erik could not resist the temptation to touch a nerve.

'Of course!' Xavier has to be seriously deluded or stupid. 'How could I not? After all, we're a small community of people in the middle of the ocean. Isn't it natural to look after each other?'

'No, not at all…' unfortunately Erik's answer was swallowed by knocking.

Xavier jumped to his feet. On his way to the door, he almost ran into his own stack of books, previously dropped to the floor.

Erik took a sip of his drink and thought that the whole scene was strangely familiar. Maybe, he's seen something like that in the theatre in Paris. Some funny play-acting. Life never ceases to amaze.

Xavier returned in a minute, a package in his hand and a beaming smile on his face.

'My medicine,' he stated in explanation. 'Caught a cold the first day.'

'Hope, this night's swimming didn't result in complications,' what was going on… Normally, Erik wouldn't speak in this manner with a person, whom he barely knows.

'Actually, I feel much better, can you believe it?'

'You'd be surprised. I can believe in many things – the majority of them is considered impossible,' brandy tasted better and better.

'Intriguing,' cheerfully replied Xavier. 'In our days, open-mindedness is useful and, if I may say, honorable. Especially if we take into account our destination. The continent is still full of fascinating mysteries. To tell the truth, I'm going there in order to gather data for my research,' he sheepishly continued.

Erik has seen scientists, mostly his parent's friends, and, unsurprisingly, Xavier did not fit in. The image, which was formed in Erik's mind, had little to do with this young, lively man.

Mistaking his perplexed expression for one of genuine interest, Xavier went on:

'… technology is becoming more and more advanced, but we know so little about ourselves. Who we are? Where do we come from? The theory of evolution is just the beginning of the greater path for mankind…'

Erik nodded from time to time, enjoyed his brandy while he was listening, listening, listening…

Later, Xavier dug the chessboard out of big trunk in the corner. Another reminder of his adoptive parents has caused a pang of uncertainty. But Xavier looked at him with such bright pleading eyes – Erik was stricken by the desperate loneliness hiding beneath cheerful façade. He agreed to play and did not regret it in the slightest. Erik hasn't come across a worthy opponent for a long time. Before leaving for lunch, he promised to play another game. He was becoming accustomed to Xavier's blatant expression of delight.

Woman, whose real name he still did not know and would hardly ever find out, was waiting for him on the deck in the provocative white dress aimed to render men speechless and women nervous with jealousy. Erik bowed slightly and offered his hand. They walked along the railing, until they reached the place with no curious ears nearby. For a while, Erik was staring at the waves in silence. He turned around, when noticed her attentive gaze on him.

Her eyes were not the same shade of blue as Xavier's, he noted without any reason.

Inwardly, he smiled.

'Madam, we're making a deal!'


	3. Chapter 3

Charles hasn't been that awfully embarrassed in a while. He opened the door without any second thought, barely awake and not coherent, and stared at Erik for two minutes unable to say a word. He was so ashamed when he had to remove books from the armchair, because there was nowhere to sit. But the worst thing and even the thought of such a terrible misstep on his part – oh Lord – he shamelessly offered his guest brandy, though normal people started their morning with tea or coffee. Erik's ironically raised eyebrows were the only indication of his bewilderment.

Erik is a polite and intelligent companion. To think, that they talked about Charles' expedition half an hour.

Oh, dear…

He is a fool… Erik… Erik with his noble upbringing was so patient that allowed Charles to continue, without betraying his obvious boredom.

Marvelous… Just great. The only person he got acquainted with wouldn't want to see him again. And would be absolutely right.

Charles tried not to get more upset. He needs to find something to do, to keep himself occupied. Tomorrow, they arrive in the port. In fact, he had nothing to do, but checking the documentation and rearranging the names of the plants in the alphabetical order was a good distraction.

Evening came quickly.

Alex and Sean came to check on him. Hank knocked and asked some vague questions every single hour. Poor Henry was as far from discreet as Cain from intelligent, which reminded Charles again… No, there will be time to think about that. But not now.

Soon, concern, expressed by Hank and boys, was too much to bear. There's no need to get so agitated. For God's sake!

He took his coat and quietly closed the door behind himself. Getting fresh air – seemed like a brilliant idea.

There were more people on the deck, than he expected. Armchair, which has served him as a coach the previous night, was occupied by an elderly lady. Young girls stood nearby – their laughter, light and merry echoed through the deck and disappeared in the distance, joining the drowning sun. A couple went by and a woman took one look at him and whispered something to her husband. They looked at him and smiled unkindly. Wind carried the fragments spoken in French – '…the one from last night' and '… look at him, probably too ashamed to show up… disturbing good people…'

Only now he realized what was meant by Erik. What an amazing thing – rumor? The more absurd and bizarre it is the faster it spreads. In fact, it was his fault. Charles pretended to look for something in his pocket – his fingers clutched the almost round shape of the watch. He tried to mask the treacherous wave of embarrassment. Very really he was in public. How did they recognize him? Strange. If he was a suspicious man, he might have thought that rumors were Alex's doing. Young man never failed to be surprisingly inventive then it came to his so-called revenge. Charles told himself that this feature demonstrates Mr. Summer's strategic thinking and soon will be used for good purpose.

Let's pray for it.

Deep rumble of familiar voice caught his attention. In attempt to retreat as quickly as possible he ran into a grey-haired gentleman, who stepped on his foot in retaliation. Charles tried to put some distance between them, but stumbled and blindingly bumped something hard. He looked up; the only thought was wildly circulating in his head – it must me doom. He knew without looking whose face he was going to see.

As expected, he was pressed chest to chest with no one but Erik Lensherr. He also grabbed the lapel of his fine grey coat with the same hand still holding his stupid broken watch. And Charles had hoped that this day wouldn't be getting worse. In vain.

Erik stared down at him – his eyes, glinting with a fascinating metallic hue – a striking colour, noticed Charles. Oh, he looked almost … friendly.

'Excuse me, my friend! Didn't notice you! I apologize, sorry!'

Charles has met a difficulty. He couldn't detach watch from Erik's coat. It was somehow strangled… loose thread. Worse and worse, signed Charles.

'Your friend, Herr Eisenhardt? Why don't you introduce us?' a charming lady broke awkward silence and flashed a wide smile.

'Charles Xavier,' Erik turned and meaningfully added, 'and without his help, I wouldn't be able to enjoy the pleasure of your company.'

'How interesting,' she made a graceful gesture of offering her hand, adding slowly, but surely. 'Countess De Kud. It's a pleasure. By the way, have we met before? Your name is familiar,' she looked him up and down, starting with his confused expression.

She was sharp and dangerously so, flashed a thought.

'Probably not,' Charles was carefully choosing his words. 'Unless you visit Oxford frequently. And if once seen, you are impossible to forget,' added he lamely, but sincerely.

'Madam, do excuse us, but Mr. Xavier and I have some unfinished business.'

Erik's voice didn't have any ounce of regret, fake or true.

They bowed to the countess, after exchanging some pleasantries.

'You've saved me twice, Charles,' said Erik mockingly and offered. 'Join me in the hall bar, that gambling paradise is amusing, if a bit noisy.'

About an hour later, Charles found himself fairly drunk in the company of indecently sober Erik. They didn't join the game, but Charles was presented with an opportunity to appreciate the local bar. And he did. Appreciated, that is. The rational part of his brain has ceased to show signs of existence after the second glass of that wonderful French cognac. Taking into consideration, that Charles has already started his day with brandy, his tongue took hold of his mind. And without any preamble he rushed to his favorite topic, unashamed about asking personal questions or inquiring Erik as if they were close friends. Erik, miraculously, answered him and even added something himself, while wearing a look of clear amusement. Charles was purposefully digging himself a grave, but at the moment he was beyond caring.

'Don't want to impose, but my offer remains. You mentioned, you were born and raised in Africa – just the area, which we'll be investigating – secluded and previously unexplored. Meeting you is a big success. For the project, I mean. Ah, thank you…'

Charles saluted the bartender and continued:

'As far as I understand, you are familiar with some breaking discoveries. Of course, they are not related to my field, which is entirely specific. I want to… Do you know that Africa is considered to be the cradle of human civilization? The flora and fauna of Africa – if you're looking for something specific, you may get lost in the variety of species. One may say, that native people also…'

He was babbling, realized Charles through drunken fog.

'Your offer is tempting,' drawled Erik gracefully holding his glass with long clever fingers.

Charles has caught himself staring, mesmerized.

'I have to fulfill a promise to a friend. And, I'm afraid it'll take more time than planned.'

'Sorry to hear it, but,' Charles wasn't giving up easily, 'do not forget, all arrangements will take, hm, approximately two weeks. If you'd be free by the time, we'll be glad to see you in our group.'

Erik nodded.

Charles felt strangely encouraged and elated.

'Speaking about Alex, I've reached the dead end. I must confess, I hoped to… how to put it… to channel his aggression into socially acceptable… you know. Ah, sorry, Erik. I think, I got to the stage of intoxication called – "begging for sympathy with the help of … stories, describing how difficult your life is in all details".'

Lord, he actually said that one.

'What's the next stage?' inquired Erik with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Charles was diligently searching for the answer at the bottom of his now almost empty glass. A thought nagged at him. Was it unease from before? Right, he may ask now. There's no dignity left to lose.

'Here's the strange thing, Erik,' he said, instead of answering. 'That night, I had the hell of the headache, but when I woke up – I bet, I felt someone's intent… as distinctly as I can feel your disbelief right now. I saw you so clearly. I still cannot understand what has led me to you. A moment of serenity…' muttered Charles in the end and nearly shivered at the phantom memory.

'This moment you described, would be craved into everyone's memory for sure,' Erik shook his head. 'You have to become a poet. Don't let that talent go to waste!'

Charles laughed in response – he was basking in the delight of complete relaxation.

'Erik, you've got a great sense of humor. Excuse me, but may I ask you a question?'

Erik's answered by lifting his glass.

'It goes without saying, that it's none of my business,' he leaned closer and conspiratorially lowered his voice. 'Is everything all right? There was somebody on the deck, someone who pushed you, and I must confess, I've never seen anything like that before…so…' he paused to take a breath, 'someone was there to kill you. Maybe, just maybe, I'm overdramatizing here, but the only possible conclusion I've made is, well, it has something to do with your secret mission – you're travelling incognito; our captain gave you an opportunity to escape immediately after the incident. I'm not complaining, but I had to spend about an hour in his quarters, and got tired retelling and remaking the story due to your absence.'

Erik looked straight into Charles' darkened eyes – the bizarre shadows made them black and bottomless. Almost like the first time they met. Charles in his helping mode was quite persistent. Erik wholeheartedly understood the lad – Alex was his name…

Do not rely on others when you can do something yourself. Every page in his life has provided infinite proof of this rule. Besides, this case was of dangerous and delicate kind.

'You're a good person, Erik. If there's something I can help you with, just say, and I'll gladly…'

'Hey! What a surprise? How is life treating you, Charlie? Finally decided to come out, huh?'

Erik turned and saw the owner of the loud voice – a big, gaudily dressed man. Erik recognized him from before. This man's failed attempt to cheat in poker had resulted in a minor scuffle a few days earlier. At the time Erik decided to help the victim by preventing the clumsy attempts of an elderly baronet to rush out with his fists. If you ask Erik, it'd look like a battle between an old monkey and a hippo. This so-called fight only reinforced his opinion that almost all humans do not know how to gauge their strength.

'Did you run out of alcohol and decided to switch to the bar?'

'Cain, it hurts to imagine how much time you have spent coming up with such exquisite remark,' Charles clasped his hands in the lock so hard that his knuckles turned white. 'Would you be so kind and think on your next pun somewhere else?'

The hippo-man sniffed, indignantly.

'Cain, you should act like adult. Childish pranks are not in fashion any more. Do you want to talk about anything?' calmly asked Charles, and Erik, a silent observer, has noticed a barely concealed nervousness in his tone.

'Bastard… Acting high and mighty, I see,' muttered the hippo-man, face flushed with anger.

He faced away as if preparing to go. But suddenly he turned around and the next moment he was dangerously close to Charles. That won't do. Erik grabbed the offending fist in mid-air and slammed down on the countertop. There was a snap of broken glass – man's meaty fist has met a tumbler and red blood mixed with spilled drink was flowing in thin ribbons. Like tiny red snakes…

It became very quiet for a moment, but only for a moment. Here and there the occasional laughter can be heard as well as the clinking of glasses and agitated calls.

Charles seemed to stop breathing. Abruptly, he turned deathly white and looked at Erik as if he was drowning.

Erik raised to his feet and put a firm hand on Charles' shoulder.

'Charles, stand up, we're leaving. If I see you once again,' stated Erik simply, turning his head in hippo-man's direction,'the consequences will be more… unpleasant.'

Hippo-man was pressing the towel, provided by bartender, to his injured hand. In his small eyes the ocean of fury was boiling. Impressive emotions, decided Erik. That's a pity, that vessel was not as impressive.

'You'll regret it, Charlie! Did you hear me? First, I'll smash that lap dog of yours. Hey, you're not listening to me!'

Soon, his voice has turned into unrecognizable growl. Erik never looked back.

He didn't remove his hand. Instead, he had to drag Charles all the way like a puppet, literally. They must make quite a picture.

It turned out, that the door of Charles' cabin was unlocked. As expected, sighed Erik. He decided, that armchair was comfortable enough. Charles leaned back and slowly started to regain himself. Erik helped him to hold the glass of water.

In a minute, his eyes became focused and apologetic and his breathing evened out. Charles squeezed Erik's hand and Erik let him, though he had to remain in an uncomfortable not quite standing position.

'Erik, I don't even know where I shall start. I apologize so often, that you must be tired,' he swallowed the end of the sentence. 'Cain is my brother. No, not in that sense. He is my stepfather's son. And Cain is a bit… um… short-tempered and rude – the faults of his upbringing, I assume. In addition, we've had a … disagreement. Well, you know these family matters… Hard to find a compromise…'

'Charles, are you trying to rehabilitate this pathetic excuse of human being in my eyes?'

'Am I really? Yes, you've caught me.'

'Next time, you should try better. Why are you so concerned about him? Because, I hope I won't be seeing this … stepbrother of yours anymore.'

'Oh, no! Erik, please, listen to me carefully, my friend. Cain may be unintelligent, but he is cunning and ruthless!' he wearily added. 'What I ask you is to be careful. Will you?'

'Believe me, Charles, there's nothing to worry about.'

'Well, and this phrase usually works as a catalyst… You've accepted it so stoically – I mean, my behavior hasn't shocked you. I'd apologize again, if there was some sense in apologizing.'

He looked at familiar calm expression. He was still drunk so he uttered, unthinkingly, 'Your eyes are of the most unusual nature I've ever seen. So interesting! I was ready to swear that they are grey, but they were blue a minute ago, and now they are green… Perhaps…' Charles tried to take a closer look.

A knock has shattered his world into pieces. Like glass, crushed by Cain's fist.

'Come in!' he called out, because getting up and opening the door was beyond him at the moment.

Erik gently removed his hand and stood straight on his right. He should take a sword in his hands and put on a cape – purple will go, so the image of the knight will be more striking. Well, it's not that Erik isn't extremely good-looking as he is… Charles chuckled to himself only to be addressed with a worried look. Great, now his rumored insanity is confirmed once and for all.

Hank pushed through the half-open door in his usual manner. He entered each room as if he was afraid that the assassin is standing by the door, ready to chop off heads.

Charles cursed – alcohol hit stronger than usual. His mind is playing by its own rules.

'Professor, can I speak to you? Sorry to interrupt,' he glanced at Erik with open anxiety.

'Hank, this is my friend, Mr. Len…'

'Maximillian Eisenhardt,' interrupted Erik, emphasizing his surname.

Charles wanted to bite his treacherous tongue in half. Another nail in the coffin of his friendship with Erik.

'Henry McCoy, you were the one drowning,' Hank's eyes behind his glasses narrowed.

'Mr. McCoy, you confused me with somebody else,' he nodded to Hank and looked at Charles. 'Charles, it was my pleasure. Be safe.'

'You too! And don't forget about my offer! It stands good!'

The door has already closed behind Erik and Hank's fidgeting finally got his attention.

'Hank, how can I assist you?'

'It's about tomorrow. I'd like to know… ' Charles calmly waited for him. It was pointless to make Hank hurry – this was one of the lessons learned from personal experience.

* * *

Of course, he was waiting for Erik near the cabin. Hiding in the shadows – a proper place for cowards. Darkness has been his ally since as long as he remembers. In the dark he saw more clearly than some individuals at noon. The stance of the boxer, apparently. Well, that makes it easier. Erik grabbed a fist aimed at his head and twisted it. The second hand, aimed lower, met nothing.

Erik pushed his attacker chest to the door, and fumbled with a lock. Door opened inside and Cain fell on his face like a sack of stones. No balance at all. Erik was on him before he managed to get to his feet. Steel fingers locked on his throat, preventing him from making a sound. Erik lifted him off the floor and slammed against the wall. He gasped and struggled but Erik did not let go.

He continued to choke him until Cain's face became a picture of blue and red. Then, he stepped back.

After an obligatory coughing, Erik spoke in the measured voice:

'Can you taste death right now? I guarantee that I'm one of those people who hate unfinished jobs.'

Cain was breathing heavily and clutching his bandaged hand to his chest.

'You are a beast! Monster!' he croaked. 'Wait, till I speak to authorities, and you'll get exactly what you deserve.'

'I see. The irony of your position is slipping away from you.'

'What? How dare you laugh at me?'

'You attacked me in my own room. After the bar, and, by the way, there were a lot of witnesses; you were stupid enough to break in here.'

Erik shook his head in honest disbelief – logic is powerless in this case.

'Charlie found himself a guard dog. That scrawny bastard cannot even stand up for himself. Loser…' wheezed out Cain in pathetic attempt to blame someone else for his failure.

But Erik suddenly became enraged. Something in him snapped and Erik hit without holding back. Punch to the head, twist the wrist and hear the satisfying sound. Good. Elbow to the ribs. Break, kill, destroy.

Through the haze of pain Cain heard someone's terrifying growl. Strong arms lifted him to his feet and shook. Before he was pushed to the corridor, a voice roared in his ears:

'Stay away from him! Otherwise, I'll find you and break every single bone in your body!'

Abruptly, the door slammed shut, and Cain heavily leaned against the wall on shaking legs, trying to figure out who or what has just beaten the hell out of him, as if he, Cain, was the petty weakling.

_oOo_

_OooOooO_

_oOo_

Author Notes:

Well, thank you guys for reading. The story was published on AOZ, but today the author has decided to engage in a battle with formatting. Anyway, hope you'll like it.

Feedback would be lovely as well as criticism - I'm not an English speaker, but I like the language and ready to work on my mistakes.

Have a nice day!


	4. Chapter 4

Morning was splendid.

City port turned out to be just like he imagined. Throughout the noise of engines he heard people shouting in different languages - dark-skinned men, nicely dressed gentlemen and servants, sailors and nobles. Everything was pulsing with life and energy.

Charles gave up trying to find Erik in the crowd of passengers. It was sad, that he couldn't even say goodbye properly. He hoped they'll meet again and soon. Now, there is no time for daydreaming.

'That's it. Collect you luggage. We're meeting Mr. Howlett at the City Hall. I was told that's not far from here.'

'Why didn't he bother to come and meet us here, like normal people do?'

'Alex, I'm sure, he had his reasons.'

'Professor, there are people who'll carry the luggage over there.'

'Thank you, Sean.'

'Damn! You pushed me, idiot!'

'Alex, I shall ask you again to withhold from using such expressions. Sean, you'd better step away. Have you checked everything? Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?'

'Nothing but self-respect…' Alex's muttering was distinct enough to be heard.

They reached the place in half an hour.

Sun dazzled his eyes mercilessly and air became heavy with heat. Charles had to stop and pull the hat of the trunk. It was not that helpful, but at least he could see the road.

City Hall looked like an ordinary two-storied stone building. Nothing fancy. The only difference was the guards at the entrance. By the way, Charles has noticed a lot of military men on the way here. French legion as well as British forces. What does this mean?

'Excuse me,' a pleasant female voice interrupted his musings, 'I'm looking for professor Charles Xavier. We've scheduled an appointment here.'

'Ah, sorry! Nice to meet you. And you will be…' Charles attempted to lift his hat.

'Leave it. I don't want you to get sunstroke on the first day. I'm Moira MacTaggert.'

She purposefully took his free hand in the unusually firm clasp.

'I reckon, you're used to hearing it, but I imagined you a bit different. To be more precise, older. If that helps.'

Charles was rendered speechless.

'I'll do my best to improve, my lady,' muttered he,' and, um... please, you may call me Charles.'

'Excellent, Charles.'

He reached back and grabbed the sleeve of the right person, currently lurking on the periphery. Hank, given his height, shouldn't even try hiding behind the likes of Charles.

'Allow me to introduce you Doctor Henry McCoy, a prominent specialist.' Hank bowed and was about to pull away, but Charles' grip was deliberately strong.

'Sean Cassidy, a very capable student. One of the best in the department.'

Sean looked at Moira like at the eighth wonder of the world and held the offered hand for too long.

'Alex Summers, he will also help us.' Alex sent him a dark look.

This lady was fearless, mused Charles to himself. She patted the boy on the shoulder, ignoring his obvious irritation.

'Easy, young man. It gets more interesting from now on!'

Strange, but Alex withheld his remark.

'How was your journey?' Moira looked at Charles expectantly.

'Not without pleasant surprises. Could you help me to find Mr. Howlett? We have to discuss our further plans.'

'Ah, you mean Logan,' Moira shrugged and one delicate hand started fumbling with her umbrella. 'He's in the country house, and yes, we're going there right now. Actually, we'll deal with all matters concerning expedition from there. And one more thing you ought to know – I wrote you on his behalf.'

Someone snickered behind his back, but Charles was too mortified to pay attention to Alex at the moment.

'How so?...' he silently prayed that he'd simply misheard something.

'I wrote you letters, Charles,' she slowly repeated, 'and do not give me these scared eyes. Everything will be all right. Just as we've agreed. Logan, he is not much into epistolary, but soon you'll see for yourself.'

She suddenly bristled:

'Honestly, Charles, I was not sure if you'd listen to one lady MacTaggert or to Mr. Howlett, previously involved in many expeditions of the kind, even though the only thing he investigates right now is local whisky. Don't worry about Logan, I'll take care of him. Any questions?'

'I don't know where to start …'

'In that case, you'll think on the way. Let's get moving.'

The promised estate was not that far from the city boundary and was situated in the closed-off valley, which, according to Moira, was a perfect location. Moira told him she was managing the estate; and, meanwhile, trying to organize a sanctuary for endangered species. Her husband was a friend of Mr. Logan Howlett – they served in the same division.

The only problem left is security escort. Here she swore in such a colorful way that Charles wished for earth to open and swallow him whole. They must hire a dozen soldiers. The rumors of kidnappings and some maimed bodies, found in the river, made people realize that they live in a completely foreign country, where cruelty is the essence of survival. Authorities suspect cannibal tribes, but Moira thinks they are playing a different game. Cannibals rarely leave their territory. Local prejudices have never been that strong. People are nervous for a reason. Too many soldiers in the city. They're getting ready for something big.

'All in all, we have to work with leftovers. All adequate people are mobilized. Well, speaking about captain Shaw and his infamous bunch of … don't even want to use this word in your presence. Great, here we are!'

Moira jumped to the ground in one easy motion and hurried towards the house.

'I'll warn Logan. We haven't had guests for a while. Charles, do not stand in the sun – come in! Servants will get your luggage.'

Sean came to his senses. He hadn't taken his eyes off Moira all the way.

'Amazing,' he whispered.

Hank shrugged and looked at Alex.

'Why are you staring? I don't have any comments,' he tipped his blond head and squinted at the sun. 'Well, maybe I can think of some proper words.'

'Not now, Alex.'

'Everything's going to be fine,' Hank tried to express something akin to enthusiasm, but soon faltered and quietly continued. 'We really should go inside.'

The house itself was a nice one-store residence with high windows – most were tightly closed. Traces of long gone luxury and local furniture created interesting interior altogether.

Moira has changed into a light yellow dress and was waiting for them in the hall. A young African stood beside her.

'Everybody, meet Armando. He'll take care of your luggage. If you need something, ask him.'

Charles shook his hand and smiled:

'Pleased to meet you, Armando. I'm Charles. This young man's name is Alex. He'll help you to bring in the luggage.'

He's heard a muffled hiss somewhere from behind.

'Follow me,' urged Moira.

Charles caught up with woman in the corridor.

'Don't worry, Charles,' she leaned over – her hair smelled like tropical orchards and reminded him of spring and chocolate sweets.

'It's going to be better than expected. He'll like you, I'm sure!' she winked. 'I see, you appreciated my perfume. Later, I'll show you these flowers – they grow almost everywhere near water.'

She knocked on the heavy door – two long and three short knocks in rapid succession.

Then, whispered:

'If I were you, I'd memorize the signal, just to be safe.'

She pulled the doors open and they entered a fairy large sitting room. It was dark, but sunrays struggled through closed window shutters and produced enough light to navigate the room. Creepy wooden masks and animal heads were grinning from the walls. His eyes watered almost immediately – the reek of stale whiskey hung heavy in the air.

_Déjà vu? _

Home, sweet home – Charles was somehow touched. Now mother's going to call him Brian and sent for a new bottle.

Hank picked up a dusty book on the table.

Someone has hurled a knife from the darkest corner and poor Henry was saved by the book in the last second. Blade sank in to the hilt.

Charles hasn't even got a chance to become scared.

'Holy goodness!' gasped Sean on his left.

'Nice catch, doctor!' praised Moira. 'Logan, for God's sake, stop throwing knives at people!'

'Why are you always complaining? And where are my cigars?'

'I'm not you maid, Logan. Get out of the corner, so that I can introduce you!'

'Yes, colonel MacTaggert!' an imposing shadow emerged from the corner.

'Windows, Logan!' Moira opened the shutters.

Involuntary, Charles closed his eyes. When he's finally adjusted to light, he saw the master of estate in all his furry glory.

To tell the truth, at first he's thought him one of stuffed animals. That was not surprising, because the room was apparently the dream of every taxidermist. The owner himself resembled a strange cross breed of gorilla and tiger.

'What have these children forgotten here, Moira?'

'This is professor Charles Xavier, he arrived…'

'Probably, professor's decided to send his son, instead.'

He sniffed the air like a dog and grumbled. 'You don't look like professor, younker.'

'Let's see, and you don't look like I imagined either. But I'm not bound to fulfill your expectations, as well.'

Logan threw his head back and laughed.

Moira emphatically closed her ears.

'I like you, professor. Let's drink to celebrate your arrival!'

Moira stared at Charles – her angry eyes promising him a lot of suffering would he choose to agree.

'Excuse me, sir. Next time with pleasure, but right now I'm really tired. If you excuse me.'

'Huh, lightweight,' he turned to Hank. 'And what about the doctor and the red-head? Don't be shy!'

Sean started to back away in Moira's direction.

'Leave them alone, Logan. Don't you see? They've just arrived. Where is what was left from your manners?' she tilted her head and said. 'I want you to look human and presentable tomorrow morning – we have a lot of work to do. Gentlemen, I'll show you to your rooms.'

Charles was not lying when he told Logan he was tired. He slept till evening. The bed was soft and spacious and he let himself doze, enjoying a subtle sounding of tropical night. Hard to believe that his dream has come true – he's travelling around the world with its infinite possibilities. So many interesting discoveries are waiting for him... At last, he's living up to his dreams.

Finally, hunger drove him from the comfortable bed. Moira told them that no one cooks for guests, but if they are suddenly hungry, there's always something left to eat in the kitchen.

He put on a kettle. Tea leaves were in the box on the lower shelf. He poured hot water in the pot and let it brew. Charles tried to be quiet, but the house seemed deserted. He took a cup and decided to go outdoors. Earlier, he noticed several wicker chairs on the porch. That was an ideal place to enjoy a cup of tea and relax.

Someone was sitting in the chair – the sturdy figure could belong to no one but their host. Logan was lazily sprawled in the chair, smoking a cigar. Smoke was rising into the night sky in white rings – a surprisingly peaceful picture.

Charles wanted to leave when Logan called out:

'Where are you going, younker? Sit down. Bear my company for a while.'

Hesitantly, he sat down, cradling a warm cup in his hands.

'Please, don't call me that. And I've got the impression that you don't like company.'

'Nonsense!' Logan growled. 'Moira likes to exaggerate.'

'Well, she's always right, that woman,' he grunted in response to Charles' skeptical look. 'She is a remarkable one. Ought to find her a decent spouse. By the way… You're not engaged, right?'

Charles has nearly choked on a mouthful of tea.

'Easy, easy. Young people are so sensitive these days. Besides, you have already met someone…'

'Have you read my mind to reach that conclusion?'

'Mind-reading is all yours. I don't need it – I can smell these things.'

They both fell silent.

Charles finished his tea and looked at the mysterious pattern of petals on the walls – some people believe that the pattern of tea leaves will tell them about future. That would be so much easier. He put down the cup and automatically checked his lapel pocket. The broken watch was pleasantly cold against his skin.

'What have you got there, younker? A photograph of a loved one or a lock of hair?'

'No. Family heirloom.'

Logan smirked.

'Just an old broken watch.' Charles pulled it out and waived in the air - out of childish desire to prove the presumptuous man wrong.

'You don't treat it well. Let me have a look,' Logan whistled, impressed. 'Elephant must have stamped on it.'

'That was not the elephant and it was the accident.'

Logan suddenly frowned, silently staring at the watch.

'So, you were saying it was…'

'My great-grandfather's. He gave it to his son and ordered to keep it. Since then… Well, that was what I've been told. Actually, our family doesn't have many traditions. I'm not a very good…'

'Hey, hold on! I'm not in the mood for your family annals. And never will be, mind that! Have they been here before?... In Africa? Your relatives?'

'My great-grandfather was.'

'Listen to me very carefully – hide that goddamned watch or better throw it away. Anyway, it's useless like that.'

'Am I allowed to ask you why?'

'Have you ever seen this engraving before?'

'Yes, this is a phoenix amid octagonal star.'

Logan stared.

'While studying for my first degree I took some interest in heraldry and symbolics,' shrugged Charles.

'Maybe, you really are the professor.'

'I don't know… should I be offended or grateful,' murmured Charles to no one in particular.

'Be thankful. This symbol reminded me about madness that captured the land about hundred years ago. Many people perished, pursuing the legend – the Myth of the Lost City. They rushed to search for gold, but lots of men were searching for something else – the lost technology, some hellish magic. Those fools have established a cult. Numerous meaningless expeditions were lost in the depth of jungles. Needless to say, none of them came back and those who did…'

Logan took a long drag.

Charles was not that patient.

'Mr. Howlett?'

'Fairy tale is over and you should go to bed,' he said and then added. 'And do something about that watch. Have you see what's happening in the city? Here he's – walking with gold in the pockets.'

Charles took one look at the watch and clasped his hand around its cold surface.

As a rule, he preferred not to ponder on politics. All his free time was spent in the labs, where he tried to earn the respect of more experienced and therefore older colleagues. He felt obliged to help his students, diligently ignoring letters from Westchester and spending evenings in the clutches of alcoholic oblivion in one of Oxford's pubs.

But the world was changing – and not always for the better. Various disturbing rumors, news and whispers formed a frightening pattern. He swallowed audibly and thought – what if his fears are true, what if the world is already collapsing…

'Yeah, you're the clever one here, Xavier,' Logan was watching him with shrewd eyes. 'It's bound to happen. Maybe we still have a year or two, or even ten – if we're lucky.'

Fated?

Charles wished to disagree, but couldn't.

_War was coming._

* * *

Erik handed the package to the French officer of indeterminable rank. He was waiting for Erik in the pre-agreed place and was terribly nervous. His face was covered in sweat and he was twisting his mustache – probably fake, guessed Erik. After reading a letter from Anna Marie he became less miserable and they parted on almost friendly terms.

Erik has checked in at the hotel in the city center and the rest of the evening spent walking around the city. Things have changed since his last visit.

After he came out of local store – in clothes less fashionable but more suitable for climate and excessive movement, he noticed that he was being watched. Two unremarkable men were following him on the safe distance.

Professionals.

Erik turned around the corner. He quickly reached the dead end of the familiar street. High wall stood right before him.

It's high time to refresh some old tricks.

He jumped and grabbed the ledge; pulled himself up. Erik has managed to hang on the edge of the wall one-handed.

One more little effort and he softly landed on the ground on the other side. Erik carefully listened to muffled noises – two men, running. As soon as the sounds have reached his ears, he smiled. They exchanged some words, which he couldn't discern and one has left the area.

He still had a few hours to kill, that's why he decided to look around. The church was probably one of new buildings – he vaguely remembered the opulent opening ceremony - it took place before his departure. Odd, the central entrance was locked. Erik shrugged and climbed up the tree.

He reached the closest window and peered inside. His idea has brought its merits, it appeared. Yesterday's hippo-man, his face red and swollen and arm in the sling, here Erik minutely let himself to enjoy the view, was talking to a priest. They went up to the altar and priest did something – from this perspective Erik was not exactly sure. The floor behind the altar has parted to the side, revealing a dark tunnel. Priest let the hippo-man inside. He triggered the mysterious mechanism again and the tunnel was hidden from prying eyes, but not from Erik.

What exactly did he see there? Erik entertained himself with various speculations, while getting dressed for dinner.

Most definitely, some rich loafers playing the game called "secret cults" again.

* * *

She has scheduled a meeting in the most expensive restaurant in the city at eight o'clock.

Erik came on time, but his latest acquaintance - in elegant ivory dress – a sparkling diamond necklace on her neck, in return for documents – has already occupied the table in the far corner in the company of a certain French officer.

She has caught his eye and Erik joined the party, reluctant.

'Herr Eisenhardt, captain Shaw – an old friend of mine.'

Erik and Shaw exchanged usual greetings.

Immediately, he tensed – there was something definitely wrong with this man. On the surface, he couldn't pinpoint anything disturbing and yet… Erik wouldn't have survived in the jungles even the tenth part of his life if not for his instincts.

'I still don't trust my eyes. Who would have thought, dear Sebastian!' her bright smile was surprisingly cold. 'Old uniform looked good on you. Why change?'

'It didn't bring me luck!' saluted Shaw.

'I assume, you've won all luck in the world for yourself by now.'

'Who knows, Emma? Who knows?...' his pale eyes flashed with dangerous sparkle.

That was familiar – people of this kind are not uncommon. One more mad treasure hunter to the pack – reached his verdict Erik.

Fortunately, captain received an urgent message and had to leave.

They were left _tête-à-tête_.

'Emma?'

'Yes, this is my name. Satisfied? Unfortunately, I've met Sebastian long before I realized the benefits of anonymity. Honestly... I swear to god, that he hasn't changed at all. It's unbelievable.'

She put her dessert to the side and offered:

'Let's talk upstairs. My apartment.'

In the room she gave him a worn-out leather handbag.

'See for yourself. Here are the results of my hard work – appreciate it. Not everything falls into an order. Crucial figures are missing from the pattern. Nevertheless, there's something I know for sure – they're calling themselves Purifiers. Over the last decade, they've eliminated a few influential families. Digging for gold, I think. Your funds are yours, because old Eisenhardt was a wise man and had a scheme of his own. In America they act more straightforwardly. Supported by the government, obviously.'

Erik looked through the papers. Meanwhile, a wave of cold fury was burning his insides. He couldn't understand the reason beyond dozens and dozens of deaths. As if the pieces of puzzle didn't want to line up in comprehensible structure.

'Must ask a genius to figure it out,' smirked Emma.

'How do I repay…'

'Forget that we've ever met,' she harshly cut in.

'Excuse me?'

'I don't need anything from you. This is personal…'

He has never heard so much bitter hatred before, concentrated in a few words:

'Stamp them out of existence.'


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

Angel and Emma are having fun, not much, sort of...

oOoOo

oOo

o

* * *

Seagulls… They were more like winged rats – both greedy and obnoxious. Erik broodingly watched the birds wheeling on high, mentally alert to everything happening around him at the moment.

The yacht stopped to replenish with water.

Erik was restless.

He still hoped to have a word with Emma. Of course, that meant that he had to hurry. It took him about two weeks to find that former officer of the French Legion, who had previously helped Eisenhardts. Unfortunately, he retired three years ago. Fortunately, he still knew people. People who let him in the archives. One old picture. He wasted all that time to find one old photograph. And that piece of evidence deepened his confusion. It didn't fit in. Either that or he's gone mad.

He had survived two clumsy assassination attempts. The second one was close – hunt started in earnest. Erik escaped with a shallow scratch, but, well, that was more dangerous than he anticipated.

Wasn't it ironic? He returned to Africa with a single purpose in mind – to see the house, built by his farther, his mother's notes lying intact where he's left them. When he was leaving, he tried to protect the small cabin from rain and wild animals. However, was it necessary to give up everything achieved by now? Might he return for good or… Maybe, he should lay low for a while. He appreciated the thrill of danger but he's also mortal. One must never overestimate himself.

He was startled when familiar British accent reached his ears. Intonation wasn't the same. Not as smooth and cultured as Charles' has been, but something vaguely similar. A married couple from London. Currently on honeymoon.

Yacht reached the city port in one day.

Nobody from the hotel could tell him where Emma went. She evaporated without a trace.

Later, while he was sitting in a small café drinking coffee a child approached him. The boy dropped the wrinkled envelope on the table. Erik calmly finished his coffee, left money on the table and went to his hotel room.

After he locked the door and made sure that nobody was going to interrupt him, Erik opened the letter. Elegant and crisp handwriting said:

"_You're mad enough to come back and try to find me, despite my warning. Although, I'm not obliged to report to you, I'm trying to reestablish relationship with an old acquaintance. Beware of our mutual friend. Hope, we'll never meet again."_

Erik burned the note. While watching the flame, he made a decision. He'll wait. They will send the next assassin as soon as he reveals himself. This is the simplest option.

Two days later, on his way home from the club it finally happened.

Erik must admit that he was saved by chance. It was a well-practiced habit – to rely on the sounds around him. When some night birds suddenly felt silent, he quickly turned around. Just on time! The second blade has grazed his hand. Damn, he really was reckless these days.

The street corner was deserted. Full moon looked through the clouds and illuminated the familiar figure. Right… So, that was the person she told him about in the letter.

Laura, meanwhile, wasn't wasting a second. This time, her moves were more fierce and unpredictable. Erik tried to regroup, to keep himself under control. It was not necessary to kill the girl. He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry with her. Irritated? Yes, that's true.

He managed to push the assailant to the fence. The steel rod has poked through her hand, but she didn't utter a sound. Next moment, he wondered if he was hallucinating – she calmly straightened and – what the hell – torn flesh has kneaded itself right before his eyes. Erik lost his nerve only for a moment, but that was enough. She swiftly moved and sharp pain shot through the back of his head. His vision swam and Erik dropped to one knee, unable to keep his balance. He has noticed her move, but did not have time to react. One more blow to the head and he fell. Burning pain has pierced his side, disturbed by the fall. She stabbed him. How did she?...

On the periphery he saw a slim silhouette. Laura stood over his body and three thin claws were sticking out of her fist, dripping blood. She looked back and the blade…what's that… disappeared… How? Darkness crept on. The pain in his side was growing sharper and hotter and Erik clenched his teeth in desperate attempt to contain a grunt. He couldn't see…His grasp on the real world was fading with enormous speed. How annoying… Erik would never revenge his adoptive parents, would never figure out what the hell is going on around he wouldn't even get the chance to…

* * *

Erik woke up abruptly – as if someone has just yelled his name out loud. In reality he was met with silence. He found himself lying in the soft bed – a mysterious benefactor has taken care of his arm and his other wound was tightly bandaged as well. On the bed-side table stood a jug. Erik, his mouth currently as dry as the desert, tried to reach it with his good hand.

With a bang, the doors opened. A young black man, his shirt askew, rushed to his side. He poured a glass of water and held it to Erik's lips.

'Easy there! You're barely alive!'

'Who're you?...' wheezed Erik and coughed.

'Come on, sir. Yes, this way! I'll help you to sit – don't move!' he snatched the second pillow and helped Erik to sit with his back pressed to the metal headboard.

'Thieves are getting wild, you know! Where do those guards look all the time? You were very lucky, sir. But here's Angel. You must thank her!'

Erik focused his eyes on one of the most beautiful woman he's even seen. Her shiny black hair arranged in braids framed a lovely face. She was dressed in the intricate black outfit setting off a gorgeous figure. Her looks reminded him of that unforgettable time in Cairo two years ago.

'I'm Armando, by the way! Angel, my dearest, I have to run. Those lazy buggers will burn down the estate if left alone for long.'

'And sir, don't you dare cause any trouble,' he chastened Erik with a smile, obviously meaning that Erik in his current state wouldn't be able to hurt a fly.

He winked Angel and was off.

Angel sat down on a chair beside his bed:

'How are you, sir? I called a doctor two days ago. He stitched you up a bit and said that you have to spend two weeks in bed. But you've slept for so long that I started to worry.'

She smiled with strange meekness that didn't suit her at all.

Erik was overcome with a sudden bout of suspicion. Why didn't Laura finish him off? She was scared by a couple of passer-byes… Was she? Unlikely.

'Still not good, I'm afraid. I'm feeling a little lightheaded, ow, it really hurts a lot,' his faked painful gasp was met with a soothing gesture.

'Here you are. Drink this and you'll definitely feel better.'

'Sorry… I'm so tired. Going to sleep.'

'All right, do not worry – I won't leave your side.'

Her eyes were sharp and piercing – a striking contrast to smiling lips.

Erik closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He mentally checked his body on the subject of pain. His experience has taught him long ago that rest is the best doctor. He's already slept for two days. Now, he has to be healed, if only partially. Persistent, but tolerable pain in his side was nothing compared to what he's been through. Slight dizziness and overall weakness aside, he was fine.

He has to disappear from this city and be quick. He's overstayed his welcome. But, his nurse, it seemed, was not going to leave him alone.

Suddenly, the sounds of commotion have reached his ears. Something was going on downstairs. There was a distinct noise, produced by several men stomping the stairs in a hurry. Angel rushed to the door. Erik didn't waste a second. He wasn't wearing any clothes – but slacks would be more than enough. He moved as fast as possible in his current state. Erik looked out of the window. The trees were too far to attempt a jump in broad daylight. Someone will notice him for sure. And more than anything else – he needs to be discreet.

That means – roof.

Erik was using his left hand – that's why it had taken him longer than usual. He pulled himself up and let out a heavy breath. His recuperating body decided that enough was enough. Erik turned on his back and sprawled on the hot surface loose-limbed. The wound in his side was on fire, but at least the bandage was not soaked with blood yet. If he is lucky, the stitches are intact.

He concentrated on human voices coming from inside.

'Slut! You told me he was very weak. I want him alive. I will personally beat the shit out of him, do you hear me?! Huh?'

Erik was tired of surprises. Hippo-man? What the hell is he doing here? How did he find him in the first place?

'Hey, asshole! Yes, I'm talking to you. Check the street and you go downstairs! Move!'

It was quiet for a moment. Then he heard the eloquent sounds of struggle.

'You owe me, honey! Work it off!'

Something akin to glass broke and the hippo-man groaned.

'Chill out!'

Apparently he fell on the floor.

'And this is for calling me names, freak. Girl needs a consolation prize after all. This ring is too good for you.'

Erik realized that she was likely to retreat the same way, when it was too late. He was right. Angel, betraying surprising agility, climbed up on the roof.

She noticed Erik and mischievously smiled.

'Glad to meet you, handsome! Don't mind me!'

She sprawled near him and stilled.

Soon, Erik heard lots of loud swearing accompanied by the sounds of breaking furniture. That hippo-man really went wild in there. His accomplices joined him and everything resumed with renewed vigor. They got bored in ten minutes and left the room.

'I knew that these idiots wouldn't even look here,' she snickered and moved closer.

Flirtatiously, she lowered her voice and soon he felt her warm almost touch on his skin.

'No offence, handsome. Girl needs to eat. I don't know what have you done to annoy that fat-face, but he was pulling all the strings to find you.'

'What're you going to do now?' he wasn't mad.

Strangely, he cared.

'Well, well, you do worry about me…' Angel shrugged indignantly. 'I'll leave the city for now. I've got some friends nearby. Thanks for concern.'

She bent lower. Her lips were sweet and pliable and her kissing technique was expectantly skillful.

'Nothing personal! Just my way to say good luck!'

She rose to her feet and disappeared from his sight.

Erik decided to stay here for a while. This roof was as suitable as any other shelter. Erik needed a new plan.

Soon, driven by thirst and hunger, he carefully climbed into account, that all his money and other belongings were left in the hotel, Erik made his way back. He destroyed all traces of his staying there and paid the bills. At night, he took out the papers given by Emma and threw them in the metal case. It would come in handy to protect the evidence. Finally, he stored all values and remaining money in the hide near the church. It was a perfectly safe place as far as he cared.

As last, it's time to move on.

First day he was travelling on foot. Greedily, Erik took the opportunity to enjoy the feeling of walking on the ground barefoot. Also, there was no need to aggravate his injuries. He took the metal case with him as well as some necessities, but that was all.

He breathed in the air. It was full of scents and flavors he desperately missed. His memories have come back in a rush. Recently, a boar has passed here. And behind that tree over there a lion was waiting for pray. Near a pond he could smell the traces left by humans.

He dined with fruit and set snares near the pond. Night has come.

Big cat was wandering around. He probably stepped on its hunting ground. His lips parted in a fierce grin. A terrifying cry announced – there is a new beast here. Beware. For a brief moment he was met with silence. Then, the night orchestra stroke up again as if nothing has happened. Panther slipped through the trees and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

From the first day of travel, Charles was feeling more and more excited. His good mood couldn't be spoiled by Alex's misplaced sarcasm, notorious bugs and mosquitoes, and even new members of their group were not able to discourage him. Although, one must admit, that people like them were surprisingly difficult to deal with. Charles attempted to find a common ground, but failed. Well, what can't be cured must be endured.

There was this one thing he couldn't understand. What were the ladies doing here? First, the countess from the ship suddenly introduced herself as Emma Frost. Secondly, Moira. Not that Charles had something against two of them. But he was allowed to ask, wasn't he? And if Moira's motivation was as clear as day and her assistance was really precious, he had no idea what has prompted Lady Frost to undergo gruesome and often tiresome conditions. She pretended that they've never met before and Charles played along out of simple courtesy. The whole purpose of expedition was lost on her. Never mind, that the woman surprised him – she's endured all the hardships and difficulties without complaining. Someone should pay attention to the example – he glanced toward Alex. These days he was playing the ignoring game. Charles decided to let him be. He was already positive, that he'd failed as a mentor. Maybe, he could still become his protégé's friend.

They have fallen into routine.

In the evening they gathered together near separate fires. Captain Shaw always spent time with his fellow soldiers outside his big tent. They were drinking, laughing and shouting some indiscernible nonsense, and then they were drinking again. Every morning Shaw's team reeked of liquor so much, that it was impossible to approach them at arm's length, not speaking about having a decent conversation. Natives, hired by Logan to carry their stuff, always sat separately. The language they spoke was completely foreign to his ears but at night, then they were singing around the fire he has finally realized the primal beauty of each line and usually listened to it, impressed and somehow bewitched.

Logan spent a lot of time in the woods hunting. From the very beginning, Charles thought that Logan has known the captain. Sometimes, he watched Shaw with murderous expression. Nevertheless, every time Charles tried to get to know something about the matter Logan casually told him off in his usual charming manner.

Captain Shaw was also not without quirks. He'd get carried away once in a while, musing on his victorious past. Once he'd even mentioned the Eastern campaign. Charles immediately felt sorry for poor man – trying to look like a war-hero in front of the ladies. The battle happened more than half a century ago – he must have forgotten the date.

Charles wrote down all the most important observations in a diary, while Sean in the dim fire-light was making sketches. Sean appeared absent-minded to those who didn't know him well. Yet, he was surprisingly responsible and dedicated. Both Moira and Logan's input was great, although lacking scientific approach. That was Charles' cup of tea. So far, they've made an excellent team.

It was agreed that they go along the river and then turn east until they reach the mounting range.

At times like this, he let his mind wander to Erik. And even though it wasn't possible to reach him mentally, Charles always wished Erik well. He missed him, oh, how much he missed him. He's known Erik for two days but those days felt like eternity. In his presence Charles was learning to breathe anew. This has never happened before. Why was this feeling so delicious and …

'Professor…' Hank gently touched his shoulder, 'go to bed, you've just dropped your book.'

Hank gave him confused but worried look.

Charles has almost fallen asleep hunched near the fire. His irritatingly long hair has once again fallen over his eyes, getting in the way, and he had to shake his head one more time. That hair was a real nightmare. Too long to be comfortable with and too short to draw it back into a ponytail.

Probably, he really looked like a wet puppy right now – he's caught that comparison, because Moira thought him asleep. Something needs to be done.

'Right. Thank you, Hank. By the way, it's silly of me to ask you now, but don't you regret that you've come with us?... You're very quiet these few days and I can't but question myself…'

Instead of answering doctor took off glasses and tiredly rubbed his eyes.

'There is no reason for regret. Seriously, professor, this is my childhood dream to see the world,' he turned his face to Charles and said, almost apologetically. 'We're all grateful, in fact. Even Alex. Well, especially Alex. He can't say it out loud, but he is. Certain things are hard to… to voice.'

Thoughtfully, Charles nodded and stood up.

'Good night, Henry.'

'Good night.'

Before retreating to his tent, he decided to go down to the creek. Moira's seen those wonderful flowers with pleasant flavor there. It turned out that they can be used as soap and a very good one. To tell the truth, he was a bit ashamed to go there in daylight – he could easily picture Logan's laugh and Alex's smirks. Honestly, he wanted to take a closer look and see whether they'll survive in his native latitudes.

Dark figure's stepped from the nearest tree and Charles swallowed a scream. Goodness gracious! What was wrong with these people?

'Janos, for pity's sake, do not sneak up on me like that!'

Janos didn't react and Charles wondered for hundredth time – whether the man is mute or simply dislikes him so much that pretends to be dumb.

'I just want to go down to the creek… ugh… ten minutes, that's all,' he felt himself stupid, explaining something to the stone-faced soldier, but the man was on duty, guarding the campsite. 'I promise, I won't be long.'

He raised his hands in the universal compromising gesture, but the man didn't move. He might as well speak to this tree. Of course, this comparison wasn't polite, but Moira was right – captain's people were extremely weird.

Janos turned around, seemingly going in the opposite direction from Charles.

Charles backed away a few steps and almost tripped on the roots of the tree sticking out from the ground. He awkwardly slipped on the wet grass and was able to prevent his fall by hugging a tree. Holy goodness, thank god that nobody saw that.

Once regained balance he heard the splash of water. Looked up. Then he closed his eyes again, mortified.

'Good Lord! I apologize, lady. I'm so sorry. Didn't know you were here. I swear, I hadn't seen anything!'

Oh dear, what a shame! His face was literally burning.

In a haste to retreat, he quickly sidestepped and blindly tried to find the way back. Suddenly, he was turned around. A small but steady hand has grabbed his forearm.

Charles made two involuntary steps until his back hit the tree, which was the closest to the water. He couldn't help but feel the slim female body pressed to his from hip to chest. One arm found its way around his neck.

'Come on, dear. Don't be shy and open your eyes…' a whisper has burned his cheek.

Charles decided that he has done everything a gentleman had to do in this situation. All his attempts to maintain some decency have failed. Lady Frost was standing so close that he was able to feel every line of her not very dressed body. The moon was mockingly looking at him from the sky. He will be looking at the moon back – that felt like a right decision.

Her hand didn't stop its ministrations. Charles felt it sliding down his chest, light scratching and circling movement of curious fingers nearly made him shiver. And the other hand… The other hand has somehow made its way underneath his shirt. When and how did Emma manage to unbutton his shirt – that was a mystery to be solved… Stop, Charles. You need to stop her now!

'Lady Frost, please stop. Whatever has come over you, please stop immediately!'

Charles was shamelessly pleading – he was so confused and flustered that he stopped caring about keeping appearances. Tentatively, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to push her away. Gently, of course.

'You must call me Emma. Let's forget about formalities for a while. Or, may that be… that it turns you on. What about it, _professor_?'

Emma's body emanated absolutely abnormal heat. She whispered his name and has done something with her mouth that his careful attempts to distance himself were forgotten. He's never thought that something akin to biting and licking one's neck can be so pleasant. His heart was hammering like a drum.

In the meanwhile, her hand, the one which migrated to his abdomen, moved lower.

Charles wasn't able to contain a gasp and didn't see but felt the satisfied smile on his skin. Emma has clearly took it for a sign of approval and reached for a kiss.

'Wait, Emma! Stop, for god's sake!'

He tried to lean back but the tree disagreed with the idea. He hit the back of his head. It hurt. At least, his mind cleared and breathing suddenly became more easier.

'Where's your clothes?' he was holding her at arm's length and was frantically looking around in search of offending outfit.

'Charles, do try to take it easy sometimes.'

'What?' he asked dully.

'Let's consider it a bad joke!' her eyes gleamed with pure mirth. 'Let's stay friends. You were so adorable, that I couldn't resist, you know.'

Charles looked at her with eyes which probably were telling tales about the disarray in his mind.

'Are you serious?' he rasped. 'Do you really find it amusing?'

'Weren't you having fun?'

'Emma!'

'Oh, that's nice. Look here, we're already on the first name basis. Isn't it great? Positive results achieved and I can finally go to bed.'

She stepped to the side. Her clothes were folded on the stone. Charles turned away.

'There's no need for that!' she laughed.

Thank you, but he's learned his lesson.

Emma murmured, passing by and casually brushing his hand.

'Sleep well, professor.'

Indeed, Charles thought, what was that if not a final stab.

* * *

...

'He doesn't have it. I've already checked his tent and luggage.'

'Are you completely sure?'

'Sebastian, I was looking for it so diligently that the boy will be dreaming it for days. You said we still had time.'

'Not much! They've sent their assassins.'

'You're exaggerating, dear. He won't risk it. This treasure thing is … seems too legendary, in my opinion.'

'I've seen it… I've seen it all! The White City is not a legend! There is so much gold that you can't even imagine!'

'As you wish. Calm down…'

'You don't know what does this mean to me! He knows where are we going and he knows that it's worth more than all treasures of the world.'


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you guys for comments! I'm so glad that I've received any that you have no idea!

As for mistakes - I know that I make them and I'm really sorry, see, no matter how many times I check it and what language I write in, they are always crawling out like roaches.

Perhaps, German comes easier...

Well, in this chapter be aware of violence. The story goes on!

Your thoughts on the progress would be lovely!

Ooo

Oo

O

* * *

Next day he noticed a large cat in the tousles nearby. Erik didn't know whether it was yesterday's panther or another animal. It seemed as if the beast was watching him for some reason. Erik rose to his feet, pretending that he was going to leave the clearing – the panther immediately disappeared in the forest. The only thing he saw was a flash of dark elegant body between the leaves. It might be hungry. This time he ate some meat and left the remnants on the ground. There's no need to throw good food away. Erik will gladly share.

Before crossing the river he decided to make a short stop. When he prepared to go, he caught a glimpse of bright yellow eyes with round pupils, watching him from afar.

So they travelled together – Erik and the panther. Erik always left it some meat. He was constantly being watched – the panther lurked nearby, but didn't come close. The cat usually occupied lower branches of huge trees or slept under bushes. Erik became so accustomed to its presence that the day it didn't show up he felt a twinge of anxiety. Next morning, the panther was peeking out of the shrub as if nothing has happened. Erik left some fresh meat again.

The animal never came near him; it was always keeping a safe distance. Erik hasn't got a chance to see it in the open, but yellow eyes were following him every day.

In time, he reached his destination and was very happy to discover the cabin intact. After all, this area wasn't as humid as the surrounding forest. Small stream, two dozen yards to the south has turned into a small pond. Lots of bright yellow orchirds and other flowers growing there made it look like a small paradise.

Erik fully enjoyed his rest. He stopped following the time and let it flow. Days and nights were passing by…

He tried to push his recovering body to its limits – jumping, running and chasing prey the way he did when he was a child. Erik welcomed the pleasant exhaustion. It made him feel alive.

The panther appeared several times in the vicinity. However, the food he left always disappeared without a trace.

Soon his wounds healed completely. Once again he felt absolutely confident in native surroundings.

Meanwhile, he decided to renovate his house – he had to throw away two wooden chairs, but the bed was still in decent condition. Erik found several tools, one old but sharp razor and a bottle of ink – his mother's, was still in the box together with her diary.

Unfortunately, Erik ran out of work excitement very quickly. One afternoon, he caught himself carving wooden chess piece, before he realized that he meant to fix the leg of the table. The world outside jungles was… full of people – mostly obnoxious and narrow-minded…

So why does he miss it?

His whole being became accustomed to it. Besides, some sense of unease was clawing at him.

He looked through the papers again and again and was becoming more and more somber. An old photograph dated 1865 unearthed in the archives was the most disturbing evidence he has ever laid his hands on. They were eight. The smiling young man with a huge sword – really– the sword – was making a saluting gesture. Next to him stood a stocky man with cigar in the corner of his mouth. He was lazily leaning on the barrel. One man's features were practically indiscernible. But the one in the center, and Erik would bet anything on it, was the officer he met a few weeks ago. Sebastian Shaw was looking at him from the picture as if he has recently… Impossible, Erik told himself. But the feeling of dread was growing in the pit of his stomach. He has stumbled upon something illogical, unnatural. Either this or Erik is losing his mind. A doppelganger? Or a fake, perhaps? What for? How?

Frustrated, he closed the case and put it back on the upper shelf.

Night life in his jungles was free from riddles and mysteries. It swallowed all his worries. This is the only thing that matters right now – his life, his survival and his next prey.

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Since that episode near the creek, well, since that unfortunate night everything went to hell. And Charles meant it. Literally. It went downhill from that moment in the morning when Moira, once barely glanced at him, decided to ignore his presence. Charles hadn't slept all night, tossing and turning and thus completely forgot to make himself presentable… Hastily, he tied a light scarf around his neck which only drew everybody's attention if Logan's unrestrained laugh was not enough.

Sean was throwing up in the bushes – some bet he had previously lost to Alex involved smoking the weed "borrowed" from natives.

Hank said that Sean was lucky – the consequences could have been much worse.

Captain Shaw was occasionally glancing at Charles with barely concealed enmity and was even more nervous than usual.

In addition to all the pleasantries of the day, the natives, hired to carry supplies refused to cross the river in the afternoon. They were standing on the bank, the bunch of almost naked scrawny people, wildly gesturing toward the other side of the river. Logan, being more or less the expert in local dialect was trying to persuade them. As far as Charles could see, all his attempts have fallen on deaf ears.

Charles decided to be useful and asked if he could help.

Logan laughed him in the face which was not exactly unexpected but no less degrading.

'Sorry, your lordness, there's nothing you can do.'

His linguistic eccentricities were mainly directed at Charles – and Charles right now was not in the mood for teasing or jokes or anything funny for that matter.

Logan read his expression quite well and continued in a serious voice:

'These herbivores are scared to cross the river – they don't want to become a dinner for bogetsu. The tribe,' a grave nod, 'whose territory or whatever… is on the other side, here. Of course, they like to include some human flesh in the menu from time to time. But attacking an armed group? No way, I say. They're cowards. Your lordness, do you know how to hold a gun, by the way? Never seen you in action, so?'

Reluctantly, Charles nodded.

'Let's see. Here, take this one,' he put out his Smith and Wesson and Charles automatically checked the chambers, noted the comfortable weight of the handgun and slightly scratched barrel. His hands moved as if he was underwater – slowly but surprisingly steadily. Part of his mind was already overcome with hot, blazing panic. Charles has entertained the thought, not the thought but hope, that he would never touch any weapon again. He was wrong. Again, he was so completely wrong.

Logan spared him a look and patted Charles on the back – he has barely kept a flinch. Man was freakishly strong and tended to forget it. Nevertheless, this was Logan's way to express his approval and offer some support… Maybe.

'And here I've already started to worry! All right, now you stay close to your children and Moira and don't do anything stupid. Clear? Now, disappear from my sight.'

He promptly pushed Charles in the opposite direction.

But the situation grew tenser and tenser until the conflict reached its peak. And all the hell has finally broke loose.

Captain Shaw was swearing so loudly, that his voice was probably reaching the above mentioned cannibals. He abandoned his argument with Logan and switched to the natives. Their leader was probably as stubborn as captain if not more so.

Despite Logan's warning to stay put, Charles couldn't bare this any longer. He asked Moira to look after Sean and told Alex and Hank to keep her company.

He came closer just on time to witness an ugly scene – captain Shaw was beating one of the natives, while his men were holding others at gunpoint, forcing them back.

'You scrum!' he was swearing both in English and French, his face unnaturally white and sweaty.

Charles has caught his look and stood, momentarily frozen. Holy goodness, that outburst of rage! Could that be that he has a seizure. He should have realized sooner. Captain Shaw is probably…

'Easy, man!' Logan tried to pull the captain from the poor man covering on the ground.

Strange, but Logan, obviously stronger and tougher Logan couldn't move him an inch.

'You…' spit Shaw redirecting his attention to Logan. 'I know you. I know that I've seen you! You've been watching me! You are one of them! Of course, you're!'

Shaw turned his back on the man and approached Logan in few unsteady steps.

'You're crazy, man,' firmly stated Logan and didn't move.

Charles hastened to come and stand by his side but Logan frowned with murderous expression and he stumbled.

Instead, Charles frantically looked around trying to find the injured man and offer help but he was interrupted with a loud cry.

Captain Shaw and Logan were rolling in the dust on the ground. Logan's entire face was painted with blood, but he was even fiercer than before. He growled and tried to immobilize captain's hands.

A bang interrupted the flow of curses.

Charles went deaf for a moment.

Reality came back in a rush and the blood drained from his face in an instant. He couldn't move, couldn't run and silently observed Logan's last attempts to grab Shaw.

Captain cursed and rolled away. He was still clutching a revolver in his right.

Part of Charles, which made him meticulous scientist, noted that gaping wound was making a slurping sound due to the air passing through the chest cavity; blood was spilling with speed and intensity suggesting a severe blood loss – two minutes are left, no more. And his other part was dying on the ground together with Logan – desperately trying to take a breath. His eyes met Charles' and his bloodied lips moved. Logan wanted to tell him something but it was too late.

Captain's voice dragged him out of his stupor and he slowly turned.

Shaw cocked his revolver, impassive, and aimed at the man he was beating before, sprawled at his feet.

'This is what happens to those who are stupid enough to disobey me! Chose, either you follow me or you get a bullet in your head and we start the same conversation again,' he emphatically clicked the trigger and started.

'One!'

Shaw kicked the man in the ribs.

'Two!'

For Charles time had stopped. His shivering had stopped.

Charles snatched the gun and pulled the trigger.

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Alex intended to go and have a look, because, really, he is not a child, but Xavier, as usual, left him with women and children. Not that Hank was a child, but… Alex had his fun in the morning – Sean had demonstrated new levels of naïve stupidity. Now, those servants were a bit hysterical. Alex thought that captain Shaw was partially correct – they ought to be intimidated. They've hired them to do a certain job. Why protesting?

Professor, in his moralizing manner, started explaining the pros and cons of reducing to violence in conflict situations. Alex had to sit through the mini-lecture. He was proud – this time he has kept his mouth shut.

Alex has discovered this secret wisdom only recently but it worked out well.

Sean, a lazy slug, was inside the tent feigning the nausea. It couldn't be that bad, decided Alex.

Hank and Moira were sitting outside having a quiet conversation.

Loud screams could be heard from the direction of the river, but thick bushes didn't let him see what was happening over there.

'I'll go!' Alex stood up. 'I'm tired of sitting here doing nothing. What if I can help?'

That woman's look was practically dripping skepticism.

'Do you hear at least part of nonsense that comes out of your mouth?' MacTaggert asked without any pretense.

Previously, Alex noticed that she was behaving more lady-like only with professor Xavier around. Yeah, he had that effect.

'Charles is trying to protect us all! Don't you see?'

Alex snorted indignantly.

He was about to utter a smart reply, when he'd heard the gun shot.

Moira was rising to catch his sleeve but Alex was faster. He ran to the clearing just in time to see the professor deftly and swiftly – Alex had mentally made a note not to irate him anymore, because who knew – drawing a gun and shooting captain Shaw.

The natives wailed in unison as if they've been waiting for a signal. With wild cry they managed to break through to the forest.

Shots rang out.

Several people fell to the ground, but most rushed straight ahead and quickly disappeared in the upcoming darkness.

'Logan…' Alex has heard a soft whimper and turned around.

Moira was standing behind him.

He followed her tearful gaze and was hit with a wave of nausea. Logan was lying motionless on the ground thirty feet away. He was utterly, completely, deadly dead. His clothes and the grass around his body was generously imbathed in dark red blood. Something was pressing on his windpipe from inside and Alex suddenly couldn't draw a breath.

'Get them! Get them, morons!' Shaw was enraged. 'Who's going to carry my gold, idiots? Drag him here, Madrox!'

Tall, dark-haired man in the uniform pushed Xavier in Shaw's direction. He was already disarmed, clothes dirty and in disarray, his hands tightly tied behind his back.

Alex was not following.

Meanwhile Shaw pulled the professor closer and said something so quietly that Alex could only guess that it was meant to be a question later.

Professor tried to pull away shaking his head.

It was impossible to discern any words.

Shaw shrugged and seemed to calm down. He nodded to himself and cocked his head, curiously looking the professor up and down.

Alex breathed in – oh my, at last he can…

Shaw moved so quickly that Alex hasn't quite seen the strike. He heard the slap and saw a heavy revolver in Shaw's palm before it kicked in.

Charles, strangely quiet, sank to the ground.

Shaw bounced the revolver on the palm.

'What a shame! One smack and he's out!'

Moira was holding Alex's shoulder in unyielding grip, clamping one hand over his mouth.

'Stay back! Idiot! Do you want a hole in that stupid head of yours?' she twisted his arm and pulled Alex in the bushes.

He guessed that she was strong, but now he realized it to full extent.

Moira whispered furiously:

'Be quiet! We're unarmed and there's nothing we can do to help him! We must wait and regroup! Let's go!'

They ran to the tent as fast as possible.

'Hank, help Sean,' she gasped as soon as they reached their friends. 'We have to get out. Details ahead. Take guns, rifles, whatever you have – we cannot survive in the jungles unarmed! Quickly! Alex, move!'

She appeared from her own tent with a bag and a rifle at the ready.

The cries from the other side were getting closer and Moira motioned them to hurry.

* * *

When she told them that they could stay and get breath for a minute he did as she told. The only rebellious thought was – she must never be in charge again. What the hell?

Since when is this woman their… Oh god, realization struck him all at once.

What has he done?

He's done nothing.

Nothing...

'Alex, tell me what happened! And where's the professor?' Sean's voice rose and suddenly Alex was reminded that Sean was probably scared more than Alex.

He was frightened by shots, by commotion, by their pale faces and by the absence of their professor.

Alex threw up. He didn't realize why he was suddenly on the ground. Someone put a hand around his waist and tried to prevent him from falling flat on his face. Alex had no strength left to push the helping hand away. He wanted to say, wanted to explain, but the only sound he managed was a sob. After that came another one. And more.

He has never cried since his parents' death. Up till now.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: depictions of violence, torture.

ooo

oo

o

Contrary to everyone's beliefs – and Emma could have sworn she was able to hear everything those simpletons were thinking – she wasn't completely heartless. But in the first place she was definitely not stupid. That's why she didn't wait for Sebastian to lose the remnants of good sense and, more importantly, sanity. Instead, she decided to watch a show from the safe distance. To be utterly frank, Emma hoped that poor lunatic will last longer than that – a pity… schizophrenia was stronger than the most careful scheming.

Emma didn't appreciate the idea of being all on her own. Although she considered herself a survivor, stupid risks remained stupid.

When the curtain finally fell, Emma has collected some necessities, hid them and got ready to enjoy the performance. As children, they climbed up the highest trees with ease. Emma and her brother… She was not a child anymore, but her flexibility remained intact.

Firstly, she had to suffer through the repetitive wailing and howling of servants. She'd love to throw something lethal at them. Just to shut them up. This noise was really getting on her nerves.

Secondly, a hairy moron stepped in. However, in vain.

The sun was about to disappear behind the horizon and Emma was already on the verge of murdering rage. Why aren't they going somewhere else so she might sneak behind the group and perhaps speak to that professor? Further cooperation with Sebastian was suicidal, that's the given. Moreover, this Charles was such an unbelievably nice man, too soft for her liking, but he would do. She could see the potential. He's had some hidden toughness, even more than Sebastian. She smirked looking down at her soon-to-be ex.

Huh? Here is Xavier, by the way. He'd better stay away, of course.

They should have given Sebastian an opportunity to beat up that unfortunate thing. He would have cooled down a little. Is it necessary to rise a commotion? These men could be so simple-minded sometimes.

First shot has almost caught her by surprise – even though Emma was deducing such development.

Oh really, Sebastian is stronger than he looks.

And Charles stood there earthly grey, probably shocked. If she were him, she would have run this instant. One man's blood was never enough to pacify the crowd. Hence… Wait! What are you thinking? She clearly overestimated Xavier's intelligence.

The bullet, which was aimed to hit Sebastian in the arm stopped in the air inches before him and then… fell down. She saw it. Lord! She has definitely seen it – Emma grabbed the branch and lowered her head in astonishment. What was that?

Xavier noticed it too, but he clearly didn't see Madrox crawling from behind. Well, apparently Xavier was a sorry fighter when it came to hand-to-hand. Thus, he was the one currently knocked down to the ground.

His gun was thrown aside and Sebastian bent to retrieve it.

Meanwhile, the commotion grew and screaming, wailing and gunshots were surely annoying. Emma thought, she saw that blond bully and nondescript woman always tailing Xavier. It was impossible to say for sure.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian. He dragged Charles closer by the collar and whispered something in that pretending paranting manner that never ceased to send goose bumps down her skin. He's questioning about the key – not quite an educated guess.

After Charles fell to the ground unconscious, she couldn't quite contain a sympathetic flinch – half of his face was covered in blood. Sebastian has finally come to his senses and started yelling more or less logical orders. Before he realized, that the remaining part of Xavier group had to be taken care of, it was already too late. The birds have left the nest.

Sebastian was suddenly overcome with hysterics – this one is a lost case, thought Emma wryly. For sure...

Twilight quickly turned into night.

It was by no means difficult to manage without servants and they were all gone now, if you don't take into account several dead bodies under the tree.

Right now they had to carry everything by themselves and to say they were glad would be a serious underestimation. Most of the supplies were left right there. Emma humbly decided to accept this small gift – if they have thrown away some food she wouldn't be complaining. Her plans for future were under current consideration. If only Xavier played as directed, she pursed her lips wistfully. He mustn't have played the hero – or tried to. Anyway, turns out – Emma is pretty much on her own now.

Madrox has forcibly drawn unfortunate professor to his feet. Xavier could hardly stand and Emma was one more time surprised by the sympathy she felt towards him.

Right now she can't help him out even if she tries.

She grimly stared as the retreating group as long as she was able to discern the hunched silhouette among others.

Soon after Sebastian and his troop disappeared Emma decided to climb down. Fresh blood will attract predators – she needs to hurry and get supplies they've left in haste.

Emma was just picking up a big knife from the ground near the aforementioned corpse of a hairy moron when a voice grumbled somewhere to the left:

'Hey, blonde! Lend me a hand, will you?'

Her newfound ability to scream was astounding.

Moonlight cruelly highlighted the dead body of the bulky man. The corpse was clearly struggling to stand up.

'Shut up!' the corpse croaked. 'We're not in the park as you might have noticed. Do try to make as little noise as possible.'

As if to emphasize his remark something screeched in the depth of the forest. The growl which reached her ears was echoing in the dark. Screw it, she suppressed a shiver, Emma was fed up with this nonsense.

'What are you?' she asked in a cold tone which had cost her almost every ounce of self-control she currently possessed.

'I'm just the same as your dear Schmidt! Quit staring! Help me up! Do you think it's easy to restore the blood loss that… Goddamn! Are you blind or what?'

He was as heavy as an elephant and smelled of gore and dirt. Absolutely charming. Indignantly she sniffed and tried to step away as quickly as possible. Nasty smell was pure poison for her senses.

This Logan man was pointing in the direction of the forest.

'They're almost here…'

'Who?' Emma suddenly became agitated.

'Cannibals. Came all the way here to pick at your bones, blonde. Relax! That was a joke. This's Moira and kids.'

'That's not funny…' she hissed.

'Your yesterday prank was also far from amusing,' he retorted.

Yes, now she could see four people coming. Logan waved them and grumbled:

'I can't see him… Where is Xavier?'

'Sebastian decided that professor will accompany him from now on.'

Brevity is the soul of wit.

Logan grabbed her wrist.

'I'm not fooling around, blonde!'

'Likewise!'

Finally they were approached by the rest of the group. Woman has never lowered the rifle.

'Logan?' she squinted. 'Is that really you?'

'Me. Worry not. Do I need to remind you what you did in the quarters…'

'Cut it, Logan!' she stomped her foot in embarrassment. 'I've got your point!'

She has taken three more steps and practically threw herself in his arms.

Emma was too distracted to comment on it.

'We have many questions. And this time I won't turn a blind eye. Honestly, what the hell has happened to you?'

'Where's the professor?'

Moira looked back.

'Alex...'

'Schmidt, or Shaw, how he calls himself, has him, if we trust her words.'

'Why? What!...' cried out Alex.

'In order to ask him several questions in private. See, there's this thing I told him to get rid of and the blonde here had put so much effort into looking for it underneath his clothes…'

Emma shrugged:

'My methods are more efficient. And less painful than Sebastian's, trust me. Stop calling me names, you animal!'

Logan never let her continue:

'We have to go this instant! Took what you deem necessary and follow me. All scrum from the jungles soon will be there. I'll tell you everything you need to know later. Hey, ginger, where have you been to? Didn't I mention that the moment you decide to have a stroll on your own you're dead? Are you also mad or what?'

'Excuse me, Mr. Howlett!' Sean, that was his name she guessed, was holding something vaguely familiar.

'Professor's diary…' he panted. 'Didn't want to leave it…'

What a precious moment! To risk one's life to get some rotten book. They're doomed.

'I'm begging you!' Emma rolled her eyes.

No one reacted. These people don't appreciate her hard efforts to distract them and lighten up the mood. The fools.

ooo

oo

o

Erik was moving quickly. He preferred to use the higher floors of the jungles for his trips. It was faster that way.

Today he woke up together with first sun rays only to feel anxiety and hear distant commotion. Something was troubling the forest. Hunters have hardly managed to crawl this far. They must have been overly fearless or completely insane.

Erik was responsible for his native land even though it was part of wild jungles. Soon, he reached the river and his worries were confirmed – there were traces of the recent massacre. The smell of blood was heavy in the air and the inhabitants of the forest had clearly worked at making the bodies almost indiscernible. He chose the tree to explore the river bank from the height. Someone has shared his preference for this observation point. Erik paid attention to the rope burns on the tree trunk. The person stayed there for a while and took all precautions not to fall down.

The tents left in disarray proved that there were more people in the group than corpses on the ground.

He needs to look closer. There were two separate groups, he decided. Perhaps, they were moving in the same direction. It was evident that they have crossed the river. There were numerous traces of heavy boots on the opposite river bank. Part of troop or mercenaries?

Six people were following them. Clear tracks… Why didn't those six turn back? The tribe occupying this part of the forest was certainly dangerous and hostile. Especially to those from good old Europe. Erik observed their traditional celebrating feast a couple of times when he was a young boy. He hadn't understood those humans that time – why did they eat someone from their own pack if there were a lot of more delicious things. And what about pure enjoyment that you felt after finally catching your prey? They were not that hungry, he mused later on. It was just a ritual. No more and no less. However, balls and other entertainments in so-called higher society bore distinct resemblance to those humble dinners in cannibalistic circles.

Six were slower than the bigger group. Erik was faster than both of them altogether. Cautiously, he watched four people sitting around the small fire. Two women were facing away from him. A ginger lanky young man was talking to them. Something told him to stay away from them. A burly man, vaguely familiar, was vigilantly observing his surroundings. He'd better retreat.

Where are the others?

He caught a faint smell – humans. About sixty yards to the north he saw two men. They were surely arguing too loud for people who have breached the territory of the vicious tribe. No instincts and no brains. But wait, the taller one turned around and looked up.

'Who's there?'

Erik was looking at the one Henry McCoy.

ooo

oo

o

Alex was a mess. While Moira was telling them what had happened, he sat in silence. When he opened his mouth, he started blaming himself, blaming Moira before she told him off. Lady MacTaggert claimed that she was not as kind as certain professor and she would gladly teach him his place by leaving Alex alone in the jungles.

Now Alex is trying to rehabilitate.

'Hank, why are we sitting here? We can be too late and he can already…' Alex gulped.

He couldn't bring himself to continue the sentence.

'We're very tired. You're almost feverish with fatigue. If not for mister Howlett, we would never make it this far. Let's be realistic, Alex. What can we possibly do?'

'But ...'

'Surely, you've heard mister Howlett. He'll do everything in his might to help us. It turns out… he's sort of immortal,' Hank rubbed his forehead.

'This's madness. It doesn't fit, although I must trust my eyes… Given that proof. Supernatural abilities, treasures, this amazing regeneration and the Lost City… I need more data.'

'You're crazy, man. How do you imagine collecting it? Will you ask that bastard to please stand still because we need to fire a gun and see if bullet makes a hole in your head?'

'At this rate, captain is invincible,' Hank was worried – he was not a naïve fool Alex thought him to be.

The professor was in grave danger and they didn't have much time, but still… It'll be no good to die in vain. He was not even taking Sean into account. That left Mister Howlett, Alex and himself – hardly a capable team, he must admit. Their only chance is to come up with a good plan. For about two minutes he was haunted by a feeling of someone's penetrating gaze.

Maybe, it'll look stupid, but he doesn't care anymore. He turned around and asked the tree under which they're standing now.

'Hmm… Excuse me. Who's there?'

Frankly, he didn't expect to receive the answer so quickly. A tall, almost naked fair-skinned man has apparently jumped down from the tree. How could a person jump from that height was one question. The other one was what in the name of god was this man, who looked more civilized with his clean-shaved face than Hank himself, doing in the jungles. Was he spying on others' conversations out of curiosity? Perhaps, he was another one of those superhuman beings they've encountered…

'Henry McCoy!' stated the stranger in a firm tone.

Alex was gaping at him like a very surprised blue-eyed fish.

'Um, yes. And could you possibly be?...'

'We've met. Do you remember "Caspartina"?'

'Oh, now that you've mentioned the ship. Excuse me, sir. Of course, I do remember you – you're a friend of professor, right?' Hank could never stop the babbling when he was nervous.

'Where is Charles?' the man asked. Something in his manner of speech made Hank cringe. 'I thought, you were travelling together.'

Hank needed to find the right words but all of them seemed to escape him at once.

'Captain Shaw took him. He is crazy and thinks that the professor will give him the key to the Lost City!' he heard Alex voice too late to clamp a hand over his stupid mouth.

'And bullets can't kill him, you know…'

Hank was sure that the man has just shifted before his eyes. His unmovable and steely expression has morphed into something else – his face darkened and he suddenly bared his teeth like a wild beast.

'Please, help us to rescue him, sir?' Alex's last remark has met nothing but air.

ooo

oo

o

Previously, Charles thought that he was quite accustomed to pain. Indeed, he has already experienced bad bruises and broken bones, courtesy of Cain; and has burned himself a couple of times when he attempted to get friendly with the kitchen in his small apartment in Oxford. That taught him well. After the initial shock and sharp pain, he was still alive and functioning - if not always as well as before. With that in mind, he wondered what was awaiting him now.

His head hurt like never before. His legs were threatening to give out, and all other senses were dimmed and dulled as if he was walking through the thick sleazy fog.

The same man from before, Madrox, was occasionally pushing him forward. Once, Charles didn't manage to maintain his unsteady balance and tripped. Madrox cursed him and the barrel of his rifle painfully connected with Charles' side – it has nearly made Charles black out right on the spot. He didn't realize how and when was he hauled back to his feet. That was a pure miracle that he could stand and even move his feet, he briefly entertained the thought. He could no longer feel his hands due to the tight rope binding them together. If he wants to escape, he has to cut the rope at least. Somehow... The idea seemed distant and phantasmagoric, but he held to it with everything he had.

When the sky began to color with the first sun rays, captain Shaw called his men to a halt. Don't they see that their leader is clearly unstable? Why do they allow him to lead the group to certain death?

Shaw motioned Madrox to follow him. Madrox promptly rose to his feet and dragged Charles to the forest, hurrying to match his captain's steps.

Shaw didn't go far. He chose to sit under the big tree on the stone, which was a cruel imitation of the chair.

'Untie him!'

Madrox, paying absolutely no thought to Charles desperate hopes, yanked his hands up and cut a rope with a knife meanwhile slicing skin. Charles has bitten his lip hard. Blood rushed into numb limbs which made the pain more intensifying. Charles has let himself sink to his knees. He would gladly lie down just here, dignity be damned – he mused through heavy fog coating his mind. Let him rest, not much… Maybe, half an hour or so...

The hand touched his face in almost gentle way and forced his chin up. Shaw was looking him in the eye and Charles, in his state of magnificent reality detachment, registered fear in the depth of man's gaze. It's a pity, giggled his inner voice in a very uncharacteristic fashion. We are suddenly sharing some friendly atmosphere but Charles is too far gone to care. Ah, sure, I'm in shock, he tiredly closed his eyes. I'm totally allowed to have some fun before I'll finally join all Xavier's dynasty drinking contest up there – Charles was positive that his family afterlife heaven looked like one…Well, if he takes into account himself and what he remembers of his father there might be some exceptions…

Shaw slapped him awake.

'Professor, I honestly didn't expect you to act like that,' said the madman meanwhile. 'Believe me, I don't want to hurt you. We'll soon run out of prominent young scholars at this rate.'

He paused for a moment – which gave Charles enough time to tame his treacherous tongue – and continued:

'I need the key, my son. Let's not pretend that you don't know what I mean.'

'First of all, I'm tired of people pointing out that they are older and thus must be respected on the terms which I don't personally distinguish,' Charles' voice struggled to overcome the terrible scratchiness of his throat. 'Secondly, you are not my father and please don't refer to me as such…' Shaw's face contorted in a violent spasm. 'And as you have obviously looked through my personal belongings, not to mention lady Frost's attempts to express a... hmm... particular interest in my persona. You could have been more discreet…'

'Now, this is more and more entertaining, young man. What have you done with your watch, then?'

'Threw it away,' he wasted no time to respond. 'As I was given a good advice.'

'Oh, yes…' Shaw has visibly sunk down on himself and finally pulled away. 'I trust you,' he nodded seriously, 'and I've always been able to find out a lie in one's words. You may call it a special ability of mine if you want.'

Charles wasn't fooled by the false calm and watched captain with caution, meanwhile observing his surroundings. He has to distract those two and quickly. His chances to escape were slowly fading away like a desert mirage.

Suddenly, Madrox grabbed his shoulders and twisted his left arm behind his back. Charles gasped when Shaw abruptly seized his free hand and Madrox showed him in his direction. That's all; he registered a single hysterical thought – oh lord, he will not just kill me.

'Watch carefully, professor. I'll demonstrate you a natural phenomenon, which is really worth your attention.'

Dreamily, Shaw smiled and straightened his index finger gently tapping it with his own. Whistling something under his breath, he touched the second knuckle and although Charles was bracing himself he was almost deafened by the scream. It felt as if his finger was completely crashed under the stone press. Holy goodness… His eyes had watered and he wasn't able to contain a sob. He needs it, part of his mind cried within Charles, Shaw needs your pain and your humiliation more than anything. He forced himself quiet but… He couldn't. His head was murdering him and he felt more and more nauseated with every second...

'Don't disappoint me, this is only one finger,' Shaw shook his head smiling in a strangely serene way.

Charles bit lower lip enough to draw blood.

When Shaw broke his middle finger, Charles heard the distinct crunch of bone through his cry. Shaw hummed in satisfaction. Charles thought he would lose consciousness after the fourth. His hand hurt like hell and was terribly swollen. He started trembling after the second broken finger and couldn't stop. Hot tears were freely streaming down his cheeks and he sobbed, ashamed and unbearably terrified and tired. So tired…

He was slipping away – every single fiber of his being filled with pain and constricting despair.

Shaw patted his shoulder in mock encouragement and casually observed:

'Have you ever seen the force of nature more intriguing? This strength presents incredible opportunities. Don't get me wrong but if you had tasted it once, there is no chance in the world that you'll forget it. Let's continue. I'm sure – this one will not leave you indifferent.'

Captain put a hand on Charles' chest. Please, he silently begged all deities he could think of, let me faint. Please, let me rest…

The heat was unexpectedly cruel and piercing. It was burning him whole and its violent intent ate at his tortured body with monstrous hunger. He screamed, screamed and screamed… As if trying to break free by the sheer power of his strained voice.

Fire flashed before his mind's eye and Charles fell into oblivion.


	8. Chapter 8

Erik was rushing forward with grim delight. His mind has immediately perceived the situation, but he wasn't able to say what he was going to do exactly. Anger, potent and sharp, was clouding his vision as well as newly awakened bloodlust was making his blood boil. Erik has nearly lost his concentration due to unhealthy excitement. It might have cost him his life. Erik managed to brake his fall by chance – he was this close to death – he should stop. Cautiously, he leaned against the scratchy trunk of the tree. Why did he rush ahead like this? Surely, he wanted to help Charles…but. But, to tell the truth, he was not acting like a sensible person right now. That won't do. Absolutely not! He is going to get himself killed before he gets a chance to rescue Charles.

Finally, he has chosen the most sensible option he could think of. Erik must go back to read the traces more carefully now. There was a slight chance that Charles has escaped – unlikely and yet… He must be quick – no one knows how much time Charles has.

From the very beginning of their would-be friendship, Erik has indeed felt some spark of interest, perhaps, even sympathy towards Charles. After all, Erik could easily pinpoint loneliness when he saw it. Again, his reaction was too excessive for simple tolerance. In fact, he was extremely surprised on the ship – his violent, forceful reaction in response to Cane's ambiguous threats, has woken his other side – the one, which had to be buried long ago. That time, he barely restrained himself from killing.

Anyway, Erik's inner turmoil is not important now. Charles is a good man. This is more than enough. Charles' sincerity and goodwill … it was truly rare. Well, he sighed and strained his senses. His ability to think was slowly coming back. In a minute, Erik smirked and braced himself.

He had an idea.

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Charles resigned to regain consciousness; he wholeheartedly wanted to sink into blackness again. But dizziness and constant stabs of pain were already clawing their way through the forefront of his mind. Sticky, aching tendrils draw him up and up to the world of living. Opening his eyes took some effort. It turned out, he was currently sprawled on the ground and if he was correct… Charles squinted at the sun. He has been out for a couple of hours. He tried to shift and for a moment was blinded by pain. No one has bothered to tie him up and if he was able to stand, he could attempt to leave.

If only no one noticed.

Charles was clumsily trying to help himself up with his good hand, when he heard heavy steps on his left.

'You're lucky,' Madrox uttered with mock wariness. 'I'm yet to keep you alive.'

How am I still up and going – mused Charles after another hour of a seemingly never-ending route. Eventually, his stupid heart was seized by growing fear. He could guess what was waiting for him ahead, though he didn't want to. Didn't want to think, because it was more horrible than he could contemplate…

In time, their squad became surrounded by obviously hostile natives. There was no doubt that their spears were useless and Shaw's men could've easily cleared the way. Still, Shaw spoke to the leader with faked respect and calm – never interrupting another's wild gesticulation.

They've reached a consensus and the chief – the one with monstrous necklace – made a grand gesture to follow him. Right, they were probably not far from the settlement. One is good for sure – they would stop soon and Charles would be able to pass out from exhaustion. Just a little bit more. That's what he wanted prior to anything – oblivion and… some water to drink. Yes, perhaps, water comes before oblivion.

The rest of the road was a blur of images, voices and stabbing pain.

Somehow, Charles found himself leaning against the rusty pale of some obscure origin. His hands were tied in front of him now and Charles couldn't look at his injured hand without cringing. He wasn't a doctor, but he could name a hopeless case when he saw one. He has mustered a shaky smile – better not mull over it now. His right hand was currently numb, awfully swollen and, well, he doubted that he'd be healing completely, not without immediate medical assistance. Nonsense, Charles is soon to be dead – there's no need to worry about the functionality of individual limbs.

Gradually, his mind was retreating into a strange foreign dimension. Charles was still here but at the same time he wasn't. It seemed that he has fallen out of reality for a brief moment. He was forcibly woken by Shaw, who dragged him up like a kitten – as if he weighted nothing at all.

'Professor, this is an honor for you,' he smirked. 'My decision to spare your life has been correct. They agreed to provide us with their services as long as someone joins the meal tonight. And can you guess who will that be?'

The implication hang heavy in the air.

Charles tried to remember how to breathe.

He really is going to die one of the most agonizing deaths in the world – he realized with finality.

Shaw barked out a few words and two men quickly dragged him to a pole in the center of the settlement amidst low huts.

Charles couldn't feel his body anymore.

Every hope, he desperately clung to, has evaporated.

No one… No one will help and no one will know.

Something snapped in him, some vital part which let him keep a resemblance of composure even in those circumstances. He couldn't pinpoint where he was anymore. Present and past has intertwined. Here was his father, straightening his coat in front of the large hall mirror – the last time he and mother were attending a ball in the city together. And at the same time there was Shaw's voice – he heard a distinct arguing. He saw the atrium – the one which became his favorite – and felt a pang of regret. He's done so little. He hasn't taught that many students to be called a professor, but he wanted to. Through the haze he saw the tribe preparing for ritual, but at the same time, Charles was playing chess with Erik, helping Moira to arrange healing herbs while listening to her Logan-related stories, and … sitting near the campfire with Hank and boys.

Darkness fell upon settlement very quickly.

Shaw and his group were nowhere to be seen. The whole tribe gathered near the big fire feeding it from time to time.

Charles came to himself when he felt hands on him. He was being touched and probed in a way that suggested that those people have already considered him a big piece of meat. Still alive, but who cares. They are trying to pick a better piece, he assumed. Good luck with that, thought Charles with dark amusement. He has definitely lost a couple of pounds here and there – Shaw managed to sweet-talk the chief into a poor deal.

Next time he opened his eyes to see dancers moving around the fire. Their dark bodies glistened with sweat and red and yellow sparks of fire beautifully illuminated the picture. If I saw it without realizing the full extent… he caught a lonely thought… it would seem gorgeous, perfect.

Dancers were speeding up their movements. Women and children joined the circle. Charles closed his eyes – he won't look. He doesn't want this sight to be the last thing he sees, the last he remembers. He'd better turn blind. The darkness at the edge of his mind rippled like a sea and breathed him in, in and in.

Piercing, inhuman cry broke the rhythm of the drums. After a moment, the same cry echoed from the other side of the jungles, surrounding the settlement. Anxiety sparked among people and music stopped. The third cry, near the fence, made several women scream in fear.

The spell was broken.

Jungles woke up. The growling rumble reached the fence. The chief was shouting orders, unaware of silent shadow watching him from the tree. Beasts were already there – they tore down the fence and stormed in like a wild fire, bringing chaos and death.

Hell broke loose.

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Erik planned to disturb gorillas – he noticed a couple of families nearby. About thirty individuals. He knew how to make them enraged – had a lot of experience. If he wanted to be discreet, there's nothing better than good old commotion. Animals did exactly what he needed.

He task was to run with everything he had in the right direction. That didn't exactly work swiftly, but nevertheless he did it.

He must hurry, he must come on time.

Erik was ahead of angry animals but not for long. He climbed the tree, worried and acting solemnly on determination. Frantically, Erik looked around.

At last, he found the one who made him do the craziest thing in his life. In the bright light of fire he distinguished the familiar figure, tied to the stake – and barely resisted the urge to jump to the ground and kill, bite, brake, ripe the insides… His temper flared, but he stood still. Be quiet. Erik repeated to himself over and over. Be quiet till the moment is right.

Furious gorillas broke through the fence and the moment came.

Erik rushed ahead, pushing panicking people to clear the way. He picked up the knife, hit the man who was staring at him with wild eyes and gutted him without remorse. No one must notice him. Erik kept the knife – he won't have time to untangle the knots.

When he reached the pole, he slumped to prisoner's back and called out:

'Charles, can you hear me? Don't let them notice that I'm here. I'm cutting the rope…' blade was only shredding the edges and Erik growled, enraged.

He strained his hands and ripped the damn rope in half. In no time, he had freed strangely unresponsive Charles from the bonds and was not exactly ready for Charles to go limp in his arms.

Erik muttered profanities under his breath – he should've realized that Charles was unconscious. If not dead… He stomped the treacherous thought. Cruelly.

Next, he carefully deposited Charles with his back to the pole and tried to feel for a pulse – he was taught some things by the family doctor. A lifetime ago. Charles' body swayed and Erik had to lean him on his chest. His gaze took in darkened traces of dried blood on the right temple and one more time Erik was grinding his teeth in cold fury. Charles was breathing. Not good. Too slow, but Erik was relived. Right now, having unconscious Charles in his care, he must be even more cautious.

He escaped the place in a rush, paying no attention to surroundings. Erik is responsible for his friend's life – he has to survive this madness intact. He passed the last hut and was on his way to the forest when the arrow hit the tree inches from his hand. Damn! He forgot about those, who escaped to the forest. Erik darted behind the tree. He couldn't abandon Charles – not even for a moment. Fighting is not an option. He planned the whole affair to avoid it, because Erik was strong and capable, but he was also realistic. Jungles were his ally. Open spaces filled with hunters who were equipped with bows and spears were not.

A horrendous cry interrupted his feverish thoughts.

Erik tightened his hold on Charles and glanced back. He stared in disbelief. Big panther was shredding the convulsing body on the ground. Its' teeth tore at man's throat until he finally stopped writhing and stilled – a bloodied mess on the ground.

Cat growled and turned in Erik's direction.

He froze under the yellow gaze, wondering what it was going to do to them.

The panther walked next to him, its fur almost touching his bare skin and disappeared into the night.

Here goes his cavalry.

New ally gave him strength and Erik ran away from the cursed village at top speed. He made two short stops to rest. Charles didn't wake up. Erik grew tired. Charles' unresponsiveness frightened him, but the idea to go and find his companions from the ship was dismissed as fruitless. They let this happen to him, what more harm are they capable of.

He reached his house before dawn.

Erik deposited Charles on the single bed with utmost care. He stirred a little when Erik tried to cover him. That's good, decided he. That probably means that he's going to wake up soon.

He fetched himself some water.

His moves were sluggish, but Erik remained on his feet. This was a very long day. Erik prepared the brew but fatigue caught up to him right then. He fell asleep on the floor – he didn't dream.

* * *

Erik was awakened by the chant of birds from the outside.

He quickly got up.

Charles moved in his sleep – his arm was hanging over the edge of the bed. In daylight, Erik was able to see him more clearly. He didn't like what he saw. Charles' face was gaunt and terribly pale, lips cracked and bitten. Erik gently turned his head to the side. Nobody bothered to clean the wound on the temple. It was messy, but only superficial. He needs to clean wounds at first, later he'll see what can be done.

He brought water and started to unbutton his shirt. Erik gulped and narrowed his eyes – he couldn't quite understand what was that. The purple stain on Charles' chest. Awkwardly, Erik touched it when he tried to lift off the fabric. Charles moaned in pain and tried to pull away – only partially aware of his surroundings. Erik stopped, not sure what to do next. He noticed the different breathing pattern, tightly shut eyes and realized that Charles is fully awake.

'Charles, this is Erik. From the ship. Remember our first meeting in the ocean? I promise, I won't hurt you. You can open your eyes now. Can you hear me?...'

It took Charles long to figure out what to do. Erik remained by his side but didn't do anything.

Finally, those bright blue eyes, bloodshot and dulled with pain now, found his face. It seemed that Charles had a trouble focusing. Recognition dawned on him and shadows left his gaze. Charles looked at him and then he tried to smile. Sheepishly.

'Erik, my friend… So glad to see you again…' his hoarse, strained voice had nothing in common with rich intonations Erik remembered and admired.

'Do not talk, drink.'

For some reason that sounded harsh, but Charles gratefully complied.

Erik had to assist him though.

When he refilled the mug and put it on the chair near the bed, he was startled by a sudden inhale.

Charles?

He was staring at Erik with naked fear in his eyes, shivering.

Erik swore and sat on the bed next to him. He heard the muttering '…not real…mad…' and frowned. What was Charles thinking?

'Charles, calm down. You're safe!' Erik didn't dare to take him in his arms and shake. Honestly, what does he have to do?

'Charles, we're in my house. You're safe. Let me help you, all right?'

He got a forlorn look in response but Charles nodded and attempted to sit. They managed to get rid of the shirt together. Erik froze when he saw a wound. The burn wasn't bigger than a size of hand but it was deep and turned a disgusting shade of purple. Bruises on his sides were telling tales.

'Erik, don't look like this… This is… I almost,' Charles paused to breath in, 'don't feel anything.'

Erik clenched his free hand. He would gladly pay those bastards a visit and exchange some experience in torture. He said the last part aloud, because Charles hastened to reassure him:

'No, Erik. It's not like that. Captain Shaw… We hired him to escort us. But he, Erik, he went mad…' Charles coughed.

Erik made him lay down and gestured to stop talking. Again, Charles obeyed.

He started with the temple. Erik applied a salve, which he previously made for himself. He used the same medicine local tribes and animals used and hoped it'd be enough. Charles silently watched him with odd expression. He not so subtly flinched and soon groaned when Erik decided to take care of his injured hand. It was mangled – he couldn't find a better word. His barely restrained anger resurfaced anew. He could only imagine the pain caused by such cruel intentions.

'Maybe, it isn't too late to do something,' whispered Charles feverishly.

Erik ached, so much he wanted to tell him to shut up this instant.

'… though, my friend, I've never been so glad that I'm equally adept in the use of both left and right…'

As if to make it worse, Charles tried to smile through a grimace of pain.

Erik saw white.

Fortunately, Charles soon fell into a heavy, troubled slumber. Erik was currently mulling over their prospects. There was nothing to eat in the house – he needs to go. But. Erik looked at Charles' prone form. He hesitated. Clearly, he'd better not leave Charles alone, but he'll be back in no time. Even before he wakes. With that Erik stood up.

Charles was safe here.

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Logan was gloomier than usual. He sniffed the air and told them that he needs to check the way. That's how they've lost precious few hours. Hank told him about that stranger from the tree. He was jumping like a monkey, Jesus. This forest is full of craziness. It grows on the trees…

So, that was herr Eisenhardt and he met professor on the ship. Hank thinks that professor saved his life. Alex wanted to believe that he was gone so abruptly because he was in a hurry to help. But again, what can one person do. Well, one person without superpowers, because people with those freaking abilities were practically everywhere.

There's nothing impossible, indeed.

Logan staggered into their improvised camp site when the sun was not far from hiding for the night. Smeared in blood and dirt he stated, that someone has stirred the forest and they have to find shelter because soon there will be fun. Yes, that was the word he used.

Obediently, they did as he told. Logan found a small cave and they spent the night there. Alex promptly slept on the ground and regretted it in the morning. It made him felt twice older and he ached all over.

Before they approached the cannibals, Logan said, that he would go first alone. Alex volunteered to join him immediately and Logan, giving him one odd look, agreed. Alex's elation quickly evaporated.

'Well, what did you see? Did you find Charles?' that Moira was awfully calm. Alex hated her and respected her at the same time. And she was also crazy, he'd bet.

'Goddamn monkeys! Xavier was with them in the village or what's left of it,' Logan pulled out a cigar and lit it.

Jesus Christ! He gets them out of nowhere!

'No one can read the traces now. Locals are hiding in the woods. I can't distinguish them after a while. Too much of everything.'

Involuntarily, Alex shuddered.

He thought that after the massacre near the river he saw it all. He was wrong again. Nothing could've prepared him for the sight.

'There are no white among the dead, so we assume that Xavier's alive and that they went on…'

'Sebastian is clearly on the way to the Lost City. The treasures are calling,' smirked lady Emma.

'He's not himself. Something is so wrong with his head,' muttered Logan, seemingly to himself. 'He forgot the first journey, forgot his name. Even I don't remember the way, though the rest of the memories are intact…'

'I'll provide a map,' lady sweetly uttered and added. 'Only, the half is mine. This's a fair deal and you'd better agree before I change my mind.'

'Where did you get it?' asked Moira skeptically.

'Everything's in here, my dear,' she gently tapped her temple. 'Once Sebastian was fatally careless and I took a look. And just so that you know – my memory is flawless.'

'I didn't realize that your line of work requires fine memory.'

Moira cut in only to be interrupted by Logan.

'Hey, Moira, chill out. Do I have to remind you that this is not a time and a place?'

Emma smiled triumphantly.

'Anyway, map is good but not complete. We need this watch for a reason!'

'Wait, lady Frost!' Sean started to speak and Alex turned in his direction.

Sean, unusually quiet and dispirited, was looking for something inside his bottomless bag.

'Oh, here it is! I thought, I'd lost it.'

Sean pulled out a thing on the chain that turned out to be a certain golden watch with deformed lid.

Logan cursed, aloud. Moira didn't even reprimand him this time.

Emma smiled and mildly commented:

'I can see your game now, professor.'

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Erik miscalculated, because when Charles opened his eyes, he was alone in the house. He quietly stared at the wooden ceiling. His mind – a slow flowing river with headache currently underwater. Charles remembered that Erik gave him a drink with strange bittersweet flavor. Medicine, perhaps. He was on the verge between sleeping and waking – recent horrors flashed before his eyes, but there was Erik. Oh lord, Erik. He, out of all people, came to his aid. Charles was so happy that he started doubting his sanity.

The first person he has seen when he thought he wouldn't be seeing anything or anyone anymore.

The hut was cozy and small. The room was a size of a bathroom in his old house. It wasn't new, so Erik must've found it.

Charles looked around. There was a small table, two chairs and some shelves with strange objects, which he wouldn't touch if asked. Furniture was hand-made – not especially nice but solid. It looked like someone was going to spend a lot of time here. Something similar to cupboard stood next to the bed. There was a book on that one if he's right. Charles will ask Erik how he found this wonderful place later.

After a while, Charles was tired of staying in bed. He decided that short walk around the room will be in order. Charles braced himself and carefully got up. A wave of dizziness and fatigue washed over him, but he stubbornly stood upright. He caught breath and made a small step, tracing the headboard with his left hand. Charles wasn't worried by Erik's absence. He'll come back soon, Charles knew it. Also he knew that Erik wouldn't have left him without a valid reason. He will wait.

More than that, he doesn't know where he is and has nowhere to go.

Charles peered in the small window and froze, fascinated.

The sight was spectacular. Charles opened the door and breathed in – that was the most beautiful scenery he has ever seen.

Luckily, he managed the tricky stairs even in his poor condition.

The house stood in the very depth of the jungles, perfectly isolated and guarded by the nature itself. He watched birds of various colors and thought that he had no idea those existed.

Oh my, this's... suddenly Charles had to gulp down a lump in the throat... too good to be true. Calm down... Just calm down. His treacherous heart decided to listen to him once in a while and he stopped hyperventilating.

Splendid.

He's definitely not well, but at least he could be. If he tries, that is.

Charles patted the nearest tree for good measure.

Birds proved a necessary distraction. After a while he reasoned that water has to be nearby – he'll look, one look and he'll be back.

He was right. A small pond attracted lots of tiny tenants of the jungles. They were not scared of him and Charles lost track of time observing the pond from his vantage point. Eventually, he kneeled on the ground.

What if Erik comes back and thinks that he's gone? He won't appreciate it. Charles didn't want to upset him – he felt that he's already made Erik angry, only he wasn't sure how.

Charles smiled – he felt light and warm thinking those thoughts.

He turned around and his eyes met unblinking yellow ones of the panther. It appeared so close to him that he could feel its breath on his face.

So beautiful, he thought and he's such an idiot…

His heart stopped when panther playfully bumped its head and its wet nose nuzzled his neck. Incredible, but Charles has heard a quiet growling. He wanted to cry and laugh with relief. The panther sneezed and tried to butt head him. Charles fell back in surprise. The melodious rumbling went on and this time he laughed. It was purring like this and if he's still alive that's a good sign, isn't it? He hesitantly reached out and felt warm, thick fur beneath his hand. It was so pleasant. Charles became bolder – he drew his hand back and put it on panther's neck this time, which caused a new bout of amazing vibrations.

ooo

oo

o

* * *

Erik was on the verge of panic when he found the house empty. He darted along the trail. Charles' steps led to the pond. The sight before him made Erik stop in his tracks. Fear took hold of his body and he silently stared at Charles on the ground and a big black panther – the panther from before – looming above him.

He didn't have anything. No knife and no spear – and there was no chance on earth that he'll get close on time. Right now, Charles is in mortal danger and he is unable to do anything. He played various scenarios in his mind but all of them were not good enough. Most of them ended with Charles dead. And he couldn't. Erik gritted his teeth. He wouldn't lose him to something as trivial as that.

His muscles already tense, Erik heard a sound he couldn't be hearing now. Laughter. Charles was laughing and the veil fell before Erik's incredulous eyes. Panther was lazily waving long tail and Charles lowered his uninjured hand on the cat's neck… then he started stroking its ears.

Erik came out into the clearing, poised to attack if needed.

Charles grinned at him with a happy, bright smile and Erik was immediately relieved. Charles' haunted expression was fresh in his mind. It must be some wonder that he can muster a smile at all after everything he's been through.

Sun was falling through the leaves and panther's black fur shimmered beautifully. Charles looked at him and suggested both slyly and bashfully:

'Erik, let's call her Raven!'


	9. Chapter 9

More than anything, Charles missed his bathroom. Now, sharing living space with Erik, he realized all of the sudden that his clothes are asking to be burned, his hair was sticky with blood and grease and Raven had playfully pushed him to the ground, so that he could be smeared in mud on the top of that. Erik didn't want to let him bath in the pond alone. He offered to stand on guard. Strangely, Erik's offer, by no means reasonable and polite, made him uncomfortable. Charles lightly assured Erik that he'll be fine. Come to think of it, he has Raven now and Raven was a formidable bodyguard.

'Really, Erik. I'm not an invalid,' Charles response was more emotional than necessary, but he noticed that Erik, whatever his reasons were, was fretting over too much.

He's got a sharp look in response.

'I didn't mean…' talking to Erik when he was wearing this guarded expression was not an easy task. Charles didn't know what he was doing wrong, but Erik practically emanated don't-get-too-close aura and Charles was silently suffering in bewilderment. Erik shouldn't be this tense around him, or, maybe, his decision to bring Charles here was spontaneous and now Erik regrets it, but… No! He's driving himself mad with those useless musings. Anyway, Charles isn't in the position to complain.

He apologized to Erik and thanked him for everything several times. It was important for Charles, that Erik understood – he realizes what had Erik to do in order to save him… And, well, he stifled a weary sigh. Maybe, Erik will finally stop watching him as if he could die on the spot. Does he really look that helpless and pathetic?

'Sorry for that,' added Charles nervously biting the lower lip.

Erik's eyes visibly darted to his mouth.

'I was told, that I shouldn't be allowed to speak,' he chuckled and blurted out, 'so, please, my friend, don't mind me. Not literally, but… I just…'

Erik took in his troubled state and – oh wonder – smiled. His gaze, so fierce and determined, has shifted minutely and Charles saw it one more time – the generous, kind and caring light in his eyes.

Words vanished from his mind and he felt his expression melting under that look.

Erik was a wonderful friend. By no means. Privately, Charles, who always had this habit of daydreaming, was harboring a dream, a fantasy. What if Erik was his brother, instead of Cane, of course. What if they grew together, even in that old mausoleum? So nice. It'd have been so nice!

By the way, here he frowned - he still doesn't know what's Erik doing here and where do his incredible skills come from. Hardly befitting a gentleman, but someone who knows jungles… as if was born and bred here. Charles had some theories. But, truth be told, Erik was not willing to share. Charles was rather proud of his persistence. He'll be patient and in time…

'Hmm… I reckon, I need to tell you everything that happened since our last meeting.'

He wasn't fidgeting. He really was not.

Erik nodded in agreement.

'All right. We need to eat, I'll make dinner, but if you need something…'

'Yes, I know. I know,' Charles quickly reassured Erik.

He needed privacy and he got it. What a relief!

By the house, Charles stumbled upon those flowers which Moira showed him on his first day in Africa. How long hadn't he seen her and boys… He chased the thought away and bent to pick some up. His body still ached all over – bruises not only visible, but phantom as well. Charles tried, he tried so hard not to slip in Erik's presence – like he did that time he first opened his eyes, saw Erik and thought he'd been hallucinating.

Physically he was recovering fast. He must admit that dizziness and lightheadedness didn't fade away completely, not to mention his useless right hand and more than painful wound on his chest. Burn was now his biggest concern. Carefully, he splashed warm water, trying to avoid it. He crashed the petals and with this hand-made soap washed his hair. He took his time until he felt satisfied with himself. Charles had the right to be proud. He washed and mended his clothes – Erik generously provided him with some sewing notions; he even borrowed an old razor, secretly of course, and managed to cut himself only once and it was a little scratch, really.

Charles came back from the pond practically glowing with joy – learned to find it in the most usual places – without this ability he won't be able to survive, he reflected.

Erik was arranging the make-shift dinner and Charles noticed that he was doing something he wasn't used to. Does he eat raw meat or what – mused Charles and stopped in his tracks. No, can't be. He nervously squinted at Erik. Impossible. Although, it was another one of many questions he wanted to ask.

In the evening, they were sitting in the house with Charles leaning on the headboard while Erik was treating the burn. The heady smell of salve was acting like morphine on Charles' nerves. He decided to start and then he couldn't stop. Erik never uttered a word. Charles told everything: starting with a mysterious watch, long forgotten legends, his suspicions concerning Logan and their journey. He mentioned lady Frost and Erik raised one elegant eyebrow in silent question. Then, it was more difficult to continue. Charles took a deep breath and explained why he decided to leave the watch to Sean. He stopped telling about Shaw's fight with Logan – his throat hurt being strained for too long.

Erik didn't express his impatience or annoyance while Charles was hissing apologies and drinking water. Dark look descended upon his face when Charles was telling about captain Shaw and his abilities – Erik didn't need to be told how he found out about them.

'Nature hides lots of mysteries, my friend; some are well beyond our comprehension. If I could observe the effect of his power a little bit longer, perhaps I would be able to state or to …'

'Charles.'

'Well, right. That's all. Now I have to figure out what to do. Can't leave Henry, Moira and boys to fend for themselves. If only…' he awkwardly cleared his throat. 'I just ask, never insist, because I possess little understanding of such matters – traces and jungles, and so on. Even if I dared, I don't know where to begin with. Could you help me to find them and bring them back to safety?'

'Charles, it isn't the matter of discussion. I won't let you wander in jungles alone.'

There was a clear dismissal in Erik's tone.

Words which left Charles were solemnly to add to the spirit of contradiction – a no-good habit of childhood years.

'Oh, really?' sarcasm came easy to him. 'Erik, we're both adults. Why do you think that you're entitled to make decisions for me?'

Erik gritted his teeth. Charles touched a nerve.

'Someone has to do it. To decide.'

'Erik,' all fight suddenly evaporated and he almost pleaded, 'they are my friends, this is important.'

'You don't own these people anything. Where were they when you needed their help?'

'For god's sake, Erik, I cannot abandon Moira like that, and Logan would've risen from the dead if I let something happen to her. And there are also Sean and Alex…'

But Erik wasn't listening to him anymore. When Moira's name was uttered he stood up.

'I'm sorry if I…' abruptly Charles found himself tet-a-tet with empty chair, 'said something stupid again and… Therefore, I always…'

I always remain… alone – he finished to himself.

* * *

Erik was angry with Charles: Charles with his goddamn principles, Charles with his supernatural ability to get into trouble, Charles… who could bring to life those feelings that had remained extinct or never existed before. But most of all, Erik was angry with himself, because Erik Lensherr has behaved like a coward.

He should've realized from the very beginning – the night when they met like the most insane people in the world – in the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, hundred miles from the coast. When Charles was laughing, amused by his dry remarks and Erik was feeling slight warmth inside, when Erik made it a habit to turn around every time he heard the familiar accent, when every threat directed against Charles became his personal priority – all these times he should have realized.

That moment when Charles teasingly suggested that they may call the panther Raven, Erik was blinded by a realization. A few minutes went by and he did nothing but stared at smiling Charles.

He almost gave in to his desires – to take him in his arms and kiss, to hold him tight and never let go. And that's not enough. He would have made Charles his right there, on the grass. Erik barely kept himself in check while Charles was murmuring endearments to the panther.

Since then, he was noticing all little things which made Charles so Charles – the way his hair was curling when wet, how often he licked his lips, how funny he usually frowned, light freckles on his shoulders. This and so much more has swept his rational mind away. He stopped sleeping in the house, claiming that he sleeps better in the open. Erik was perfectly confident that these torments were fictional, appropriate for the stage and not for real life.

He was so afraid that something might happen to Charles. Soon after that, came jealousy. And it was unbearable.

Erik wanted all of him. Totally and unquestionably. Everything in Charles was appealing to him and fed his desire – the brilliance of his mind, his all-encompassing goodness, his heart – so compassionate and so unlike his own, his slender body – would feel so good, his incredible eyes, his soft voice and small habits and mannerisms – everything. Charles shook the fundaments of his life, destroyed the single purpose Erik came to the jungles with.

That's why, he was honestly terrified. And instead of behaving like Charles correctly observed – as an adult – Erik fled.

* * *

Charles was sitting on the footsteps leading to the house rubbing his forehead with his good hand, slightly rocking just at the spot. What had he done? How many times did he have to make the same mistake before he learned the lesson? He was damnably sorry, so sorry that this has happened.

Cain was absolutely right when he said that Charles would never get along with anybody. When they were still children, it sounded like a usual banal insult – his step brother failed to be inventive. But, so it goes, that Cain got straight to the point this time.

Charles would have left right now if he was elsewhere, not here – but… it would look like a ridiculous and childish temper tantrum, not to mention suicidal, at best. He decided that he'll wait until Erik comes back, beg forgiveness and then would ask for the last favor – to walk him to the edge of the forest, so that Charles could possibly find his own way and get to the nearest civilized settlement.

Black shadow, lurking behind the trees, glided towards him. Oh, this's Raven. She came closer, rubbed her head along his, prompting Charles to lower his arm. Even the panther sees how miserable he is right now. His throat constricted and Charles felt his eyes burning in a very tell-tale way. He is out of any capacity to hold himself together… so infernally exhausted. Charles buried his face in the warm fur and a sob escaped him. Screw it, no one will hear. How stupid of him – to cry out of self-pity. They remained on the same spot for about half an hour or so. Raven was growling softly and soon Charles began to calm down. It was getting dark – time to go inside.

Raven didn't want to join him – she wrapped her tail around his ankle in her own goodbye gesture, and quietly slipped back into the oncoming darkness.

Charles went in and closed the door after himself – now he felt as a stranger here, in Erik's house, and even familiar furniture was observing him with resentment. He tried to find a candle – Erik mentioned that there were some on the shelves – he started with the lower one and his hand brushed the metal case. It felt down with a loud bang and its contents scattered on the floor. Charles felt for a candle and lit it after three attempts. Sometimes he forgot, and awkwardly tried to take hold of things with his right - out of habit. Charles carefully hoisted the candle on the table and bent over the papers.

An old photograph caught his eye and Charles lifted it closer. Immediately, he was struck breathless when he saw captain Shaw and was it… Logan. Lord, it is at the very least forty years old. How…

He glanced at the article, evidently cut out of newspaper, and saw a headline – his German was definitely worse than his French – but Charles was able to read it – "Tragedy in Eisehardt family". Oh dear, he clenched poor piece of paper like a lifeline – something will shed light on Erik's past – not that it matters anymore - he bitterly thought.

There were someone's written notes among the papers. Different phrases in the articles were highlighted. Charles snatched a pencil, which has fallen out of the case and started to write his own short notes here and there. He was so absorbed in the task that he'd lost the track of time. There was a challenging riddle in front of his eyes and he dived into analyzing and comparing with passion of the man long starved. On the periphery of his mind he was frightened by the horrors that linked different facts together. Murders, kidnappings, theft, seemingly innocuous accidents were the part of one big puzzle. Activity of cults and religious organizations, recent terrorist attacks in Europe – everything led to the single party.

Charles leaned back wearily and closed his eyes for a brief moment – candle has almost burned to the hilt and the dying flame cast disturbing shadows on the walls. Why? He was always wondering… Why do people need to kill each other?... Just because they're different… madness. So much effort in order to do what – to start a war and … purify the world. Insane, they're absolutely mad. He shakily breathed in – somewhere deep inside his chest sticky horror was already clawing at him, begging to be let out.

The fading flame flared last time and vanished. Tropical night encompassed him at once – suddenly he felt cold. Single drop of sweat formed on his temple and slid down. Charles was overcome by a cowardly willingness to hide in the most remote corner of the world and wait till the storm dies out. But, he attempted a wry smile, he's currently in the right place – the trouble has caught up with him even here.

'Erik!?' Charles instantly rushed to the exit.

Sounds like Erik. As if he had called out Charles' name.

'Erik, wait! I'm coming!'

He'll put the papers in the case later.

Why is Erik calling him from the outside? Maybe, he's hurt – suddenly occurred to Charles. No, please no. In this case, he needs to hurry.

Raven jumped out of the dark growling. She tried to stand in his way and Charles nearly fell. What's wrong with her? She was always so friendly.

'Raven, calm down!' he said sternly. 'I'll go see to Erik and be back soon.'

When Charles realized that he was somehow standing in the depth of the forest without any idea how he got there - he was slightly worried. But Erik – he needs to go to Erik. There's no time to turn back. Raven ran ahead and Charles heard unusual overtones in her growling. She was scared.

_We have found you. We have… It's time. He's coming…_

Hands were touching him – he's too sleepy to react. What about Erik? – screamed the voice inside his head. Did he forget? Erik left him, unable to stand Charles' company anymore.

His awareness was slowly dissolving and the last thing he thought he heard – was an echo of the violent roar.

* * *

Emma held his forearms and didn't let him get away.

'Calm down, sugar. That's my boy!'

Sean turned as red as a lobster.

'Well, that's it. And you were worried,' Emma took off the flower crown from his head and tried it on. 'I don't like to wear something which is not perfectly arranged. One must look at it from all sides and then say a verdict.'

'As if someone will care how you look here,' this Moira has seriously come too far.

Emma pretended that she didn't hear.

'Today, we can rest. We have to replenish with food and water before we climb up there. Sean, why don't you join Alex and Logan?' Moira smiled to the boy.

'No,' redhead frantically shook his head, 'never! This is only a pretext to beat somebody up. Alex decided to learn how to fight, not me.'

Emma thoughtfully nodded. She guessed, this Logan fellow was beating up a guy just for fun. Men…

When they were sitting around campfire in the evening Logan reminded one more time:

'Remember, you do not step away from the group. Whatever happens - you stay put. Stay together! You may hear someone calling you – the voice of the person you want to hear the most – or it might be the child crying…'

He promptly looked in her direction. No way – bristled Emma. She will never fall for that.

'…killed half of our squad.'

Wait, she has missed something.

'Just a moment,' Emma interrupted him and was met with four confused and one irritated look. 'You assured me, that the tribe or the creatures inhabiting the Lost City are not that dangerous. Sebastian is on the top of scary. What else has changed?'

'Blonde, I won't repeat it personally…'

'My name is Emma. A few sounds, see. It has to be easy even for you.'

'Well, Emma, but you don't deny that you're the blonde…'

Emma would have cut his throat in his sleep ages ago, if she didn't know that it was useless.

'They're not people. White bastards,' shrugged Logan, 'yeah, they do resemble humans – two arms and legs, but you should've seen their eyes – pale and empty. One of them got into my head – I was sure that she was standing right in front of me again…'

Well, well, well… Isn't it amusing? Our savage misses mother or sister, or some woman, desperate enough to rise to the bait.

'We found them in the temple – bodies completely bloodless. No wounds aside from tiny cuts on the arms and neck – what I saw. Major blood vessels did the job.'

Red-head flinched.

'Their faces – you could never forget that expression if you saw it once – serenity, that's what I thought.'

* * *

Erik made up his mind. He will come back with the first rays of the sun. Will talk to Charles and let him decide. Maybe, he should bring something for him. A gift? It was so excruciating – to think all night long what to say and what to do. Not that Erik lacked experience in this department, but he didn't do much before. His silence was often taken for granted and he never paid it a thought. Obviously, he had no trouble – amorous encounters with both male and female came easy to him. That's always puzzled Erik – people had so much rules and taboos when it came to the most natural thing in the world.

Charles mentioned that he wanted to collect some plants peculiar for this region. He was speaking about the seeds – Erik wasn't sure, because Charles tended to forget where he was and, from time to time, hammered the person he was talking to with terms beyond understanding. Erik fell so deep, that he already found it endearing. He gathered the armful of flowers – rare orchids growing on the clearing which was hidden like the treasure among the dark mass of the forest. Charles, being a scientist, would appreciate that Erik brought him an interesting floral form. That's how he damped down the agitation.

Door was ajar and Erik hurried to get inside. First thing he noticed – papers scattered on the table. He put the flowers down and stared in disbelief. Was it a cause for concern? Erik felt at a loss. Charles has seen everything. What has he thought? Erik peered closer. Someone used his own notes and spare piece of paper to write – letters were legible and copperplate. Charles? Erik quickly looked through the rest and momentarily got distracted. Before his mind's eye, the distinct picture of large-scale conspiracy was taking shape. Charles began writing on the back of the photos; he circled names and put question marks. Some phrases were crossed out and labeled "deliberately distorted".

Erik would've fallen in love with Charles this instant, if he hadn't already occupied every corner of his mind and soul.

Where is he? Erik scanned the room and rushed outside. His sense of caution was dulled. Damn! He wouldn't do it. Charles is no fool to walk alone at night – as offended as he might be, after Erik has left.

He followed his traces to the north. Only… They were not fresh. Erik's inner world turned upside down the second time in two days. He ran like a madman – don't think, don't think what you will or won't find.

Raven? Panther stepped out from behind the tree limping heavily.

Erik smelled blood.


	10. Chapter 10

Logan was gone again – he left at dawn with the doctor and hadn't returned yet. They were crossing the most dangerous territory and had to move very slowly. There's no need to list all times they managed not to die. It was truly a miracle.

Sean was babbling in admiration – that was the first time he has seen those plans and have you seen that bug – so amazing. Soon, excitement usually died – boy was reminded of his professor and fell into mournful silence. If you ask Emma – she didn't expect to see Xavier alive. Emma knew Sebastian too well – people like Charles were for him akin a red flag for a bull. It is highly unlikely that Sebastian kept him alive. If the professor was lucky, then, at least, he died quickly. It made Emma sad. Funny, but she truly liked him.

They are very close to their destination but, as that hairy savage has said – here starts fun. The key has to show them the way. Logan and that bespectacled doctor were constantly bickering on the subject. They wasted a week, beating around the bush, but the mountain range remained unapproachable. Logan tried to climb up but fell. Emma had to watch a terrible show – slow mending bones and tissues.

'Xavier said something about the phoenix and the star,' Logan turned it from side to side.

'It can be connected with the sun worship?' ever present doctor commented.

He even proposed to use it like a prism.

Fruitless attempts lasted for a week. Nobody gave Emma the watch. Well, all right. She decided that little revenge will be in order and told them that were Xavier here he would have figured it in no time. She's got some scornful looks in response – and Moira was seething with hate. Mission accomplished.

At noon, Emma was sitting close to Sean – she leaned over him, pretending to look at the bug he was playing with in the grass – such a child. While his eyes were temporarily glued to her three strategically open buttons, Emma swiftly removed the watch from his pocket.

'Lady Frost, ow, mister Howlett said that…'

'Chill out, sweetheart. I won't eat it!' Emma smirked in satisfaction – the gold was good.

She noticed the infamous watch on the ship. Emma had to snatch it there – Charles wouldn't mind at the time. She took the chain and lifted it up – the lid opened easily. Emma frowned at the engraving – sun reflected from the surface into her eyes.

_Our child… You came. So long… He's coming… Soon…_

What the?... Black dots were dancing before her eyes together with images so weird that her mind was unable to process. Stars, flames, no, not just flame. Fire…devouring. Life… She was dying and she was resurrecting in the flash… No! Stop it! Please, don't! Too much…

Emma opened her eyes to find herself lying on Sean's lap. His hand was cradling her head and he shouted at the top of his lungs:

'Alex, lady MacTaggert, hurry please! She fainted all of the sudden! I don't know what to do!'

Two more anxious voices joined Sean. Emma couldn't breath – her lungs were burning as if on fire. Wet, hot streaks were running down her cheeks. Moira was asking something, but Emma couldn't distinguish words through white noise in her ears. She remembered; she was so close… gods, so close. Her head… Emma moaned in pain. Awareness slowly came back and she could breathe again.

'Go away, let me…' she tried to get up and Sean helped her, awkwardly hugging her waist.

'Thanks, sugar…' she managed and the boy flushed.

But before Moira had time to open her mouth a frighteninly familiar voice reached her ears:

'Emma, is that you? Long time no see!'

* * *

Charles was slowly forgetting who he was. He couldn't remember how he came to this place. His last memories were blurred – there was pain, there were bits of joy, obscured by guilt and remorse. Charles knew that he should ask for forgiveness. Whom? And why was it so important?

The road merged into one unbearably long period of time. Finally, he found himself in the large spacious room, where he was allowed to lie down on the bench. It was cold here but he was hot from the inside. Most of the time he spent in delirious world, which burned and burned under his closed eyelids – dragging him deeper and deeper. Charles could barely stand, but he stubbornly walked around leaning on the wall. Room was completely closed off and sun shone from the window on the ceiling. Soon, he became tired. Then, they came. He could no longer see their faces, but he felt their touches on his bare skin when they were wiping his body and giving him sweet liquid to drink. After that, Charles fell into a deep slumber. In the dream, voices were getting louder and then they flooded his mind. Charles doesn't need the name anymore. He will be everybody. He will be everything. Eternal, beautiful and terrifying fire. Existence. He can hear them all – thoughts, feelings, desires; he's already looking with their eyes. He hears the stars whispering to him in the dark… not too loud. Please, he prayed… not so loud… just a little bit more and he will burn too.

* * *

Erik tried to help Raven, but he didn't know what to do with injured panther. He gave her meat and left alone. Charles was the only one who could touch her anyway – she behaved more like a domestic cat around him. For Erik she was a dangerous, if beautiful animal first of all. Raven, in her turn, didn't try to become friends with him.

The only thing which was on his mind now – it was Charles. Charles who dared to get in trouble again, disappearing without a trace. This time Erik was scared more than before. He didn't understand who had taken him – his confusion grew as days went by.

Erik never stopped. He couldn't previously imagine that he can race through the forest for two days and two nights in a row. There was no place for fatigue, no violent excitement, no fury which was always giving him necessary strength the previous times. He just didn't stop. Until the second night – he had to sleep, because his vision was betraying him.

What is he chasing – he wondered. Certainly, not humans. They couldn't be faster than Erik; they couldn't be practically invisible for Erik – who reads jungles like an open book. He didn't want to think what do they need Charles for. And why come all the way exclusively for him?

Erik found barely noticeable traces on the trees and wasn't even surprised that he was not the only one using this way of travelling. He didn't have time for this. He will make it. Surely, he will. This time he'll make it right.

* * *

Alex cursed aloud in helpless desperation.

His rifle was near the tree about fifteen feet to his right, next to Hank's bag. Moira has gripped his forearm and didn't intent to let him try.

Shaw, along with his two men, was holding them at gunpoint.

'This must have been fate,' captain narrowed his eyes, 'our meeting was destined to happen. I was so worried when you disappeared after that unfortunate incident with rebellious porters!'

Alex, feeling unbelievable surge of rage, pushed Moira to the side and rushed for his weapon. It's better to try – idly sitting and waiting for bastards to finish them off was hardly a good idea. Bullet had scarcely brushed his shoulder as soon as he reached for the rifle, but the other one pierced the trunk inches from there his head was. Alex froze.

'Why hurry, son?' Shaw was slowly coming closer and Alex felt something cold unraveling in his stomach.

He stood there like a moron. Stupid, paralyzed with fear moron, who thought he could do something right.

On the periphery he saw Moira, discreetly trying to grad Sean's bag closer. Lady Emma didn't look good since she fell and Sean's fear was written on his face in luminous letters. Does Alex look that pathetic too? If he could distract captain and his men, only for a moment, others could hide in the nearest cave – Logan always made them look for escape routes before setting a camp. And Logan himself would better be here…

Shaw approached him and winked.

'You've been accompanied by such beautiful ladies, young man. You were lucky – your journey was by no means amazing. But what am I doing – speaking about such matter with a boy your age!' he held out his hand.

'Where are you manners? Will you greet me like a man?'

'Sebastian…' lady's voice was weak and weary. 'Man up, don't mess with children…'

'Dear Emma, someone has to teach them manners. Apparently, no one does it anymore. I wonder why!'

Alex couldn't bring himself to react. Shaw took his limp hand and firmly shook.

'That's all. There was no need to be afraid, although you've been hesitating for too long. And you shouldn't do it.'

'Alex!' Moira cried. 'Get away from him, Alex!'

Easily said than done.

Alex couldn't get free. Shaw held him in iron grip. Hot, iron grip. When he was little, Alex accidentally grabbed the rod by the fireplace – his father was looking away at that moment. That time he cried out and quickly pulled his hand away. Right now he couldn't.

Sweat was forming on his forehead. Alex gritted his teeth. He won't scream – he won't give the bastard that satisfaction he was clearly looking for. Shaw met his eyes and the corners of his mouth formed something akin to smile.

'Son, you've positively surprised me,' he let Alex go and cocked his head, studying him with intent eyes.

Alex breathing grew ragged – heart was beating somewhere in the throat. His hand was throbbing with pain and Alex felt as if he might tear up with immediate relief. He staggered a few steps back and barely maintained his footing.

'Tell you a huge secret,' Shaw lowered his voice conspiratorially, 'you deserve to be called a real man.'

Then, he tilted his head to the side and added conversationally:

'Can't say the same about your professor, unfortunately. My ears were ringing from his screams – what a bother.'

Alex made a dash against with a wild cry. Moira didn't stop screaming behind him, but he could care less – there was nothing before him but hateful face – what pleasure would he get as soon as he feels the bastard's blood on his hands. Shaw has swiftly dodged and his barrel connected with Alex knee with a crunch. Alex fell to the ground with a pained grunt and didn't even have any time to catch a breath – Shaw was aiming a rifle at his chest. Alex clenched his teeth to keep in any signs of despair.

'Your energy and in the peaceful direction, young man. I imagine you could achieve so much more. Well, you could but you've disappointed me…'

Suddenly, Shaw let go of the rifle and clasped his hands around his head.

'What's going on? Who's there?' he lamented. 'I knew you've been following me, I'm not stupid… Who's there?' he shouted and instantly fell to his kneed, clawing at his skull and swaying like a person possessed.

For a moment Alex almost fell sorry for him, but he quickly shook off unwelcomed feeling.

Alex grabbed the rifle and rolled away wasting no time.

In time.

Bullets aimed to kill found nothing but empty space. Alex raised the rifle and silently prayed – all saints from every boring book he's ever read in my life – please, help me. He's never shoot from this position before, he could hit only five out of ten under normal circumstances but please, let me do it. Let me get lucky this time!

His bullet hit the black-haired mercenary in the shoulder and he went down with a cry.

Moira threw a knife – Madrox dodged it, but was forced to drop the heavy gun. Alex got up – his knee screamed in pain, but at least was not broken – he took aim. Madrox, the bustard. He'd happily put some iron into his skull, but… Alex realized that he couldn't do it. Even after everything those motherfuckers did, he couldn't find it in himself to shoot an unarmed man. What a pity that you can't see it, professor. You would probably say some shit like – 'I'm so proud of you, Alex. You did the right thing. I always knew you are better than you were thinking about yourself'. Alex swallowed the gulp – enough, he won't cry like a baby anymore. He was steadily holding two men at gunpoint until they disappeared in the jungles. He turned around and only now noticed that Shaw has begun rolling on the ground, pressing his palms to his ears with anguished cry.

Lady Frost, heavily leaning on Sean, approached him. Her skin was so pale that seemed almost translucent.

'Emma,' moaned Shaw breathlessly, 'what are you doing to me? Aren't we friends, Emma? Stop it, please, stop it this instant!'

'You are so wrong, Sebastian,' slowly replied she. 'I have never had any friends and I'm proud of it. Well, just like you, I can't stand pathetic men. Didn't you say something like that a few minutes ago?'

Alex squeezed the barrel so hard that his injured hand was howling in pain. Goddamn, he managed to forget about the burn.

Meanwhile, Shaw screamed and threw up a hand. Alex watched as the wave of fire was rising from his open palm in horror. His body reacted faster than his mind. Next moment, he darted to the side and was saved – a monstrous wave of heat swept over his head and for a brief second he thought he was already dead and buried.

Suddenly, it became very quiet. Alex carefully raised his head from the ground and looked around. Thank Jesus, everybody survived. Sean helped lady Frost to stand up. Moira was muttering profanities under her breath and tried to hold her ripped shirt together.

Logan and Hank were running from the direction of the forest. Nice timing – he wanted to comment, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Instantly, Hank was by his side and helping him up.

'What has happened to your arm?' he frantically inquired having examined Alex from head to toe.

Alex mutely nodded in Shaw's direction. Captain was on the ground, arms outstretched, babbling something to himself and smiling like a loon. He's speaking German – realized Alex, bewildered.

Moira quietly told something to Logan and they both looked at lady Frost.

_He thinks, he's found his treasure._

At first, Alex didn't realize that he'd heard a familiar voice inside his head. He suppressed a surprised gasp and looked at Emma. She was intently watching their astonished expressions and Alex thought – this's the first time he sees her so tired.

_This's touching, handsome, but we don't have time to beat around the bush. I'll lead the way – I remember it now. We must hurry – this is very important._

'Well, Emma. Good job, I must say,' growled Logan in satisfaction.

He was the only one who didn't look surprised when he heard a mental voice in his head. Alex suspected that Logan has encountered stranger things during his prolonged life.

'We must thank you for that,' Howlett nodded towards the captain's prone body, 'X–men team welcomes you.'

He produced something similar to gallant gesture which in Logan's performance looked the epitome of ridiculous.

'What X–men?' bluntly asked Alex, before he could tell himself to shut up.

'Well,' Logan scratched his chin. 'We still don't know what the hell is going on – we have an unknown quantity. Have you even seen an equation in your life? What am I asking? You probably can't put two and two together… Also, X is a very sharp letter!' as if someone was asking for demonstration, Jesus Christ.

Logan surely liked to show off his infamous claws.

'Twentieth century!' added fuel to the flames Sean. 'It's just begun!'

'Nice catch, man!' nodded Logan.

'Lord,' Moira rolled her eyes. 'Logan, stop acting like a kid. What has come into you? What X–men? Are you kidding me?'

_Anyway, as funny as you people are, I work alone. And I'm not going to hang out with you and pull you out of trouble._

It seemed that this new ability brought Emma immense pleasure.

_Of course, I like it. I can hear all your ridiculous secrets and all your thoughts. Where is your imagination? This is the door to numerous opportunities…_

Moira snorted angrily.

'What about the professor?' suddenly asked Sean and Alex felt ashamed. What is he doing standing there and horsing around when Charles may be…

'We've come this far to save him, right?' continued Sean. 'What do we have to do now?'

'What happened?' asked Hank.

Alex sighed and told him the short version of his conversation with Shaw.

_Sebastian didn't lie to you… I saw it in his mind – he enjoyed it, what he did to him… but I haven't seen Xavier's death. Unfortunately, his mind is a scrambled mess now and I can't get anything from him._

'Let's decide, then,' firmly stated Logan. 'And hurry, because those bastards can come back any moment and drag the rest of the squad here.'

_We'll find something we're looking for ahead. I know it for sure. More than that, I know that all of you have to come. Well, we can leave her behind, evidently. _

Moira was practically seething in Logan's arms but he didn't let her free.

'I'll go with you,' Alex cleared his throat. 'If you say that we'll find something we're looking for, this's as good chance as anything we've been doing so far.'

'I'm with Logan,' managed Moira and Logan finally let her go.

Hank sighed in surrender.

'We've come so far, that we can't turn and just go back now.'

Sean nodded, never lifting his eyes from the ground.

_Great. I like your spirit, but I'd have made you do it anyway. Something tells me, I'm able to._

Alex smiled.

One must pay respects to the lady – she was quite capable when it comes to stating priorities.

_Oh, that's sweet. Thank you, handsome._

This one was meant exclusively for him – realized Alex.


	11. Chapter 11

Charles was hearing, was seeing things so fantastic he could no longer give them a name. He didn't know what they were. Thoughts, he guessed. They sounded both like and unlike people. The kaleidoscope of half-formed words, sensations, emotions, feelings – that's what they looked like. Yet they were so different. Charles noticed flashes of lights at the edge of his awareness. Minds were shining like guiding fires in absolute darkness where he was spending his days. There was no movement in this world and yet there was no stillness. He wanted to come closer and just like that he did. The echo of recognition slowly died inside – he must have known them in another life. Six lights – so bright and beautiful.

How amazing! He was noticed. Charles sought to reassure a wary mind and announce that he doesn't have any bad intentions – still, he doesn't know how. He could perceive their presence but couldn't speak. Well, there's no harm in trying. He concentrated and engulfed the feeling that he had in his time… long ago… it doesn't matter. He'll remember later – it resembled a hug, something warm and friendly and comforting. Yes, why not. Fine. He can share it with this person, because there definitely was a person, behind that suspicious mind.

For a moment he was distracted – someone was approaching at great speed and the powerful intention emitted by the light was so pure that Charles was very tempted to touch, if only briefly. Was it alright? It was so focused that Charles didn't want to break its concentration. He instantly drew back.

Once again he distantly felt his own body and soft cold hands lifted him off the bench. This time something has changed. No one gave him the drink. He felt the light scratching of fabric on his skin – it chilled his body very nicely. When their hands touched his skin, he could feel the buzz of foreign consciousness, but when he tried to communicate, all his efforts met a dark void, so profound and so ancient that he was momentarily paralyzed with primal fear. Someone put a palm on his forehead and Charles' mind was flooded by memories not his.

_They served us. The keepers of this world…He's coming. Epochs passed and he returns as predicted… will devour this world first…_

Vivid images flashed before his eyes. He was seeing stars, entire constellations and planets, universes, vast spaces and flames… the beginning and the end.

_We are eternity. You, our child, the fire in your blood…_

It was wrong. Cold harsh stone surface under his back – he can't move a finger, though his mind was freed from the mist… Water, they were drugging him. Perhaps, he can try now.

_They have forgotten long ago. They don't hear us anymore._

There was eternal sadness, grief and loss, but he, Charles, he doesn't want to give up.

There must be another way – he tried to protest.

_We have tried. But the protection we have granted them made them… You rest… Soon we shall end it… You come with us into eternity._

Wait, cold blade pierced his skin. Don't do this – he struggled, but mist of a different sort has made him weak. Did you forget? I can help you, I can still hear them. Don't or else…

_He shall come…_

Charles struggled to move, but was only able to open his eyes. Sunlight was obscuring his vision. You're wrong – he tried to say – lips were numb and didn't obey. You mustn't shed blood. He'll come because you forgot who must stop him.

* * *

_Someone is watching us._

Emma decided that the communication duty should lie on her shoulders. It was overly amusing to start a mental conversation and watch them jumping in surprise. She could get used to that.

The Lost City was spread before her eyes in the closed-off valley. Its pristine stone walls were white and gleaming under the sun. It was not as big as she has imagined, but still impressive. They were close now and Emma could discern eloquent traces of destruction on monumental walls.

'This's amazing!' doctor was frantically wiping his glasses with his own sleeve. 'Who could have built it? These stones are bigger than those I've seen in Egypt. I dare say that the block work…'

Emma turned off the sound. She certainly doesn't need to hear the rest. Another presence was still there – doesn't seem like one of local monsters. Emma clenched her teeth in disdain – she was never sure whether they were close or not. She just can't read them. Their luck - the hairy savage has an excellent hearing, the animal. He was also very ruthless and efficient on the battlefield. He was tearing those white things apart like a beast and Alex didn't like to be left behind. He suddenly decided that Emma needs his protection and was following her every step. Isn't this cute?

'Damn!' she shuddered.

'What's wrong?' immediately snapped Alex.

_Not what, but who… So I think. Someone with extra fondness… Spare me._

Emma was overcome with powerful sense of affection and tenderness.

They entered through a crack in the wall – must be left by the earthquake. Emma felt like coming home – she somehow knew where to turn and what to do. She knows, finally she knows that the city must be destroyed. It no longer serves its purpose.

Her self-promoted bodyguard suddenly gasped and fell to his knees.

'Hey, are you sick or what?' Emma tried to come closer and touch his shoulder.

'Stand back!' Alex rasped and looked up at her: there were odd flashes of crimson light all around his figure.

'Lady, please, take cover!'

Emma would gladly do it if she had time, but, unfortunately, she was hesitating for too long. She's heard doctor's determination – he was already dragging Sean away and Logan's decision to cover Moira with his body.

Alex cried out and his figure was for a moment engulfed in piercing fire red light. Air exploded and Emma tried to cover her head with both hands – the force of explosion hit her in the chest and she had hit the stone wall hard. Goodness, she thought. She didn't feel anything. Emma opened her eyes and stared. Her hands were glistening. Fantastic! She turned around and laughed – wonder mixed with relief. Her preferences in jewelry had manifested in the best way possible. Emma's skin was sparkling and shimmering under the sun rays and she was bathing in pure ecstasy. So amazing!

Crimson glowing died out and Alex stared in awe.

Emma felt a surge of bashfulness all of the sudden.

_How do you like it?_

'Yes, I do. Very much,' he breathed out in a rasp and Emma let herself bask in the glory.

Logan was hissing and swearing until the burn on his back healed.

'Next time, a little warning would be in order, right!' he spat on the ground.

They needed to get to the temple. Must hurry. Emma walked ahead with confidence – her sparkling skin has vanished, but she would be able to turn into diamond anytime she wished. She knew it.

'The city is built in the form of octagonal star and we need to get to the central square, right?' doctor's excitement never ceased to amaze her.

'And everyone gets a surprise on the way,' muttered Alex. 'Who's next, I wonder?'

They came closer to the large open space – the conical building in the center was dominating the landscape. Its shadow, dark and sharp, resembled something familiar... Of course, the watch!

This space is one huge shadow clock. The secret must be somewhere here. She knew that they couldn't cross it just like that.

_Hurry…_

The voice in her head was weakening – so much help from that. Any more instructions? Hello there?

She squinted at the gigantic structure. Emma had seen the architectural wonders and landmarks all over Europe and those of England, but she's never seen something so imposing and formidable at the same time. Her newly born powers were struggling inside her being; instincts screamed that she turns back and leaves and yet here she is. One mortal woman facing eternal monument to senseless bloodshed with purpose long forgotten.

The same thoughts were currently worrying her companions.

What do they do? Can't stand here in the open and wait for white creatures to catch up to them and can't move forward without a plan. She was seriously considering pushing Logan ahead – at least they can see what will happen.

'Sean, pass me the watch.'

He nodded and obediently pulled it out of the bag. Sean was the only one who was still carrying around completely unnecessary papers and lots of other junk – to make records, he told them. He cherished Xavier's diary like a holy bible. Emma honestly admired such determination. Indeed. If boy dies, it would be a great loss for some research society.

Emma shook it and looked at the engraving. Well, it's high time for something to happen.

Nothing.

'Mister McCoy!' she called and doctor materialized behind her shoulder.

'Look here, we have to figure out how to enter the temple. We can't step there, by the way,' Emma motioned to the slabs covering the ground.

'Maybe, it's a catalyst of the kind. It has something to do with supernatural abilities…' he was useless, sighed Emma.

Having let others play with the key, Emma concentrated.

Logan warned them that white-faced were close. There's no time to wait. She focused and her body sparkled with million reflected suns. Emma raised her chin and took a few steps. The invisible force tossed her back to the wall. Alex was frantically jumping around and asking if she was alright, but Emma silenced him with a curt gesture. The passage between the houses they come from was empty, but for how long.

'There's a wall out there!' blurted out Sean.

'Are you blind or what?' she half-heartedly scolded him but he continued.

'I'm… This is…' he was waving his hands around and Emma was about to let Alex backhand him – because she also had her limit of nonsense.

'Hey, calm down!' Logan dared to wink at her. 'So, Sean, I suppose you can feel it. Tell us what it is.'

'It's the air, some kind of pressure… can't explain, but if you promise not to laugh I want to try…'

Everybody looked at him with ill-disguised skepticism.

_Come on, just don't waste my time._

'I think you have to close your ears, preferably. If you think about the difference in the altitude…'

'Alright, just shut up!'

Alex was the first to do like he said.

In the end, Emma didn't see anything. She felt a strong wave-like earthquake – the strange part was that it took place in the air. That's it. Powerful wind swept through the area one last time and everything went quiet.

Well, apparently, her diamond form protected her from the effects because Alex on her right was visibly swaying on his feet.

Together they ran across the open area to the temple and faced a massive stone door. Emma broke off the lid of the watch and pushed it into the opening on the eye-level. The key, indeed. Doors parted slowly and she breathed in the dust and stillness of the centuries.

The pictures in Sebastian's mind were promising tons of gold and precious stones but she saw nothing.

It was empty.

This huge tomb has been emptied long ago.

In the middle there was a big raised platform with intricate stone engraving on its surface. Sunlight was spilling from above and the large glowing crystal was proudly standing in the center. There were alcoves cut out in the blocks and Emma dared a look. It was filled with seemingly ordinary armor ominously glistening from the shadows. Helmets were occupying a separate corner. They were undoubtedly old – and weird, foreign.

Doctor picked up one and gently wiped the dust.

'The alloy is certainly interesting…'

Emma involuntarily shivered and turned away.

Someone played with Sebastian memories. His mind was infected. Who did it to him? She didn't believe that the colonel could be interested in gold, hidden in the depth of goddamn jungles. Why send snoopers so far if you can always kill and rob somebody at home?

Next alcove was dark and empty and Emma went to the third – Sean was standing there holding tiny spheres made of misty glass.

They're too careless – realized Emma. Walking around like lost children. This place emanated strong sense of longing and despair – its imprints were crawling inside her heart and she also was grieving together with the temple, mourning over something out of reach.

We're leaving. And we're leaving alive.

_I need your assistance._

She waved Alex and he joined her at the platform.

_Everybody, take care!_

Together they approached the crystal in the middle. The stone pattern under their feet and the crystal itself were stained with blood. This is the last time – frowned Emma. She'll make sure that this is the last time those creatures desecrated the place.

Emma is making it right.

The city shall be destroyed.

_Ready? I'll help you._

Alex met her eyes and nodded in grim determination.

Crimson light filled the pedestal and the crystal broke into millions of pieces.

There was a horrendous rumbling coming from beneath their feet.

_And now we run…_

* * *

Erik was not succumbing to despair, but he was close. The traces, barely visible as they were, vanished just at the root of the mountain range. That's all. No secret passages or crevices that he could find. Cliffs were vertical and steep and Erik earned himself deep gashes on both hands which were bleeding on occasion. Time's running out and he's still running in circles. Erik decided to change his strategy when he reached the peak of frustration. His idea seemed crazy even to himself. If he was doomed to fail... at least he would try – any means to an end. Let them take him too. Erik stopped hiding his tracks and promptly sat in the open for two days which according to his inner voice were longer than two hundred years. He waited. It was the most difficult thing he's done so far.

He was not exactly ready when time came. At first, he'd heard familiar voice and rushed, delighted, in the direction – eager to hear him again, to finally see Charles, but part of his mind – that one comprised mainly of survival instincts – remained alert. His conscious mind split in two. When they tried to make him drink, he drank. And then, did his best to trigger his gag reflex. Drug was potent. He was lucky that they left him alone – he could take his time and sneak out of the window on the ceiling – not an easy task, by any means.

That was really the Lost City – the name as meaningful as it has to be. There were no treasures there but complete and utter desolation. Everything was gloomy and empty as if time sucked out life from this place, turning it into an enormous cemetery. The inhabitants on the city lived somewhere in the shadows… Pale and constantly silent, like ghosts.

Where's Charles? Erik was tormented by never ceasing anxiety. He looked through all houses he could enter. The only place left was the lone construction in the city center. He was vaguely surprised that the locals, weird creatures indeed, were visiting the central building always at the same time. A church or a temple? Erik nearly died when he decided to follow them. Bruised ribs were his smallest concern. Fortunately, the incident fueled his determination.

He found the answer by chance.

There have to be sewers. Even in the place as ancient as this one, even not functioning, but they have to exist in one form or another. After all, white-skinned creatures weren't leaving exclusively on air.

Journey through the abandoned sewage turned into a terrible nightmare. Several times he was sure that he would never make it. Everything in the city was made of stone – strangely white and as far as Erik might say – awfully resistant. There was that one moment he had to stop – Erik could swear that he's been touched by someone painfully familiar. Charles – he silently gasped. It surely felt as if Charles has passed by and clapped him on the shoulder. Feeling lost and bewildered, Erik had to shake it off. He can't afford to space out. Erik was always good in finding the needed direction.

Climbing inside the temple through the narrow passage worried his injured hands – as the result, he was leaving bloody handprints all along his way up. Erik firmly kept his mouth closed – he wouldn't utter a sound.

Finally, he made it to the surface and lay down to get back his breath.

There was always too quiet here.

Erik suspected that the mysterious inhabitants of the said city had a specific way of communication. He was observing them enough to come up with this conclusion.

He rolled on his stomach and then stood up. Hhm… he was in the right place. Charles? Erik looked around – he was in the corner of the temple, in the place which resembled an alcove or a niche. Carefully, he peered out of his hiding place. The huge stone pedestal drew his attention to the center of the temple. Ghostly silhouettes were crowding around it and Erik didn't see what was going on.

Exhausted, Erik leaned on the wall in the alcove as inconspicuously as possible. Each second of rest brought immense relief. Erik knew that he pushed himself to his limit – various minor injuries and general drain made him vulnerable. He didn't remember the last time he ate and even like this – Erik clenched his hands into fists – even like this, he'll do it. He'll find Charles and take him back home.

Erik quietly watched the creatures gliding away like ethereal shadows.

At last. Now, he can take a look.

His quiet gasp echoed from the walls.

Instantly, Erik stilled inside. He turned himself into a shadow and darted to the pedestal. Of course, bitterness seized his throat; this is cruel fate playing with him again – he'd never come on time.

Charles was lying in the stream of golden sunlight, plain white cloak thrown over his own tattered clothes. Arms outstretched. His blood was flowing from vertical cuts on his hands – very efficient, his mind dutifully supplied – the pattern on the stone was filling up with crimson liquid… Erik moved in a flash. He has to stop the bleeding. His hands were almost steady. Almost. Erik grabbed Charles' hand with his bloodied palm – look what you have done; now you've mixed your blood – added tiny voice in his mind. He quickly tore some strips of cloth – they will do for now. He tightly bandaged one wrist. It's cold. So cold. He swallowed hard and finally raised his eyes.

Charles was still breathing; he saw the rise and fall of his chest. His bright blue eyes were open but unseeing. Erik gently touched his forehead with his lips. Too cold. Charles shouldn't be so cold.

_Who are you? Did you..._

Erik almost pulled back, startled by light echo of the voice inside his head. He restrained himself. Charles was talking to him. It doesn't matter how he does it, but Erik shall always recognize his presence.

He hurriedly whispered in response:

'I'm Erik! I came for you… Charles, there's only one thing I want to ask you – please, hold on… Could you do it for me?...'

_I remember who you are!_

Charles sounded like himself. But so weak. More distant.

…_must apologize to you… I remember…_

'No – what are you talking about? You've done nothing to apologize for. I, on the other hand, should do it. Apologize and say something important to you…'

'Charles?...'

After four unbearably long minutes Erik let his fingers slide down – no pulse.

Charles has just stopped breathing in his arms and yet… Here he sat on the cold stone floor blankly staring at his immobile face.

Nothing is going to happen.

Their relationship ended before the start.

When Erik was informed about the fire in Eisenhardts' mansion – fire, which killed his foster family – Erik had nearly murdered a man in cold fury.

He will not react – this time all his pain stays with him. He will not share.

Erik gathered Charles in his arms with care – head nestled on Erik's shoulder – like dozen days ago in the cannibals' settlement. Charles was breathing then.

He embraced Charles closer, dug his fingers into soft thick hair – how he dreamed of doing it – and leaned his head against his own chest. He will not… Erik will not let go of him any more – no matter what.

Charles shouldn't stay here – this rotten place doesn't suit him at all. Erik has to take him away – as far as possible from this cursed city.

When he was getting up he clumsily slipped on the blood. Blood… single word was beating in his mind… Charles' blood.

His palm has inadvertently landed on the crystal and Erik's head nearly exploded from blinding pain.

_Who? Who are you… Blood… Our child… Again…_

Voice simultaneously crushed and burned his mind. Erik was overcome.

Please, whatever you are, help Charles – he wanted to say.

_The city shall be destroyed._

Warm liquid was flowing dong his face from eyes and nose – smells like iron.

Please, save him!

_Our children live forever…_

Pain stopped abruptly and only then Erik realized that all this time he was screaming aloud. He shifted and tried to process the subtle change he's just felt. What exactly?...

Charles snapped and looked up – fire was blazing in his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Do mind the warnings. Sexual content is ahead. **

**Also, thank you for the reading))**

* * *

Sunset was scarlet, mostly bright-red today. He was sitting under the big tree and watching the colors fade into pale line on the distant horizon. He used to despise idle pastimes… He used to do many things.

Alex couldn't believe it was all over. For several months he has lived, has survived and has fought for dear life – and in the end, how ironic, he was granted for his troubles with the sense of overwhelming devastation. He wasn't himself anymore. Only an empty shell of the person he used to be…

_Quit brooding, it doesn't suit you._

Emma came up and held a hand.

Alex took the offered palm and pulled her into his arms.

_Today I've decided to be kind and amendable. Feel free to seize the moment._

He heard suggestive intonation in her mental voice and smiled in the kiss. As a rule, being with Emma meant feeling completely defenseless. He soon learned that she despised all kinds of restrictions – physical and mental. Alex didn't hide his utter admiration and she accepted his sincerity, listened to his clumsy compliments and seemed enjoying it as much as he did. Deep down he allowed himself to harbor a little hope that this courtship shall last and someday… She knew about it, of course she did, but she said nothing. It suited either of two right now.

_Let's go back inside._

Alex let her lead the way. Three weeks have passed since their return. Logan didn't take no for an answer, so they stayed in his house. They had to get used to living with new abilities. Except Moira. She joked that was her immense luck.

Strangely, Emma volunteered to help him herself. Alex couldn't find proper words to express his gratitude. He suspected that he'd have killed everybody in the vicinity without her help. Only one person offered to help him before Emma. They didn't speak much about Charles – nevertheless, everybody mourned the loss. Even Emma – he was sure. Denial didn't help a lot but it somehow dulled the ever present pain. Moira locked Charles' room which still contained some of his belongings.

We must come back to England – thought visited Alex every morning and every evening he promised himself that he'll deal with departure matters tomorrow morning.

Moira and Sean were waiting for them on the porch.

Emma immediately frowned and Alex heard what has awakened her concern. Bad news. The rumors were filling the city – French flagman was attacked. Anxiety was whispering from every corner. There was a fire in the port last night.

'If you want to get out of here do it now,' grimly advised Moira.

Hank caught his eye and nodded in agreement.

Well then. Time has come.

Next day, in the afternoon, Alex, Emma and Sean went to the city together to make reservations for the trip. It was really a bother – captain didn't waver a bit even after Sean tried to bribe him, not very subtly. Emma has joined them, smirked in a condescending manner and dealt with everything in no time.

So, they are leaving Africa in three days.

_Boys, this seems urgent._

Emma's presence – tense and sharp – touched his mind and made Alex turn back.

_This street is blocked. A scuffle is a funny thing, but not when bluecoats are involved. _

A picture of the massacre flashed before his eyes.

_We need to find another way._

Emma shut her eyes in concentration – Alex motioned Sean to shut up.

_Too many people and all of them are on the verge of panic… _

'Is it just one street? Then, we still can…'

_No, we can't._

Emma clapped Sean on the back:

'Hurry up, horseboy. Take next turn to the left and then try to slip over there!'

No such luck.

Damn, they'd almost got caught up in the crossfire. What's going on? Alex felt as if the war has started all of the sudden and someone forgot to notify him. And again – he pinched the bridge of his nose – why start uprising in the colony. Jesus, he doesn't get this politics crap.

Emma nudged him by pinching his cheek.

'Ouch! That hurt!'

'Your useless attempts to think this over hurt me too! Get out of the carriage this instant! Horses are almost mad! That Logan, I knew that he intentionally made us take these two ponies…'

An explosion rang in Alex ears and for a moment he was blinded by dust.

They left the carriage behind and were leaning against the wall. Sean was coughing wildly. Alex smelled dirt, powder and something he became familiar with not so long ago.

_Yes, they've killed a few._

'Something tells me, that they will notice us…' whispered Sean, frantically clasping his hands.

Shouting, screaming and gun shots were approaching nearer and nearer.

_Cheer up, honey! It's time to introduce ourselves in the proper way._

'Emma,' Alex felt stupid reasoning with her, 'we can't attack using our powers, especially I…'

'What's up?' she suddenly was very angry. 'Are you going to wait until they shoot at you? Since then do you have a death wish?'

'I can try…' interrupted her Sean.

Emma's eyes turned into ice.

'What if I can stun them, I'm not sure, I've never tried…'

'Go wild, ginger! I'll watch and applaud.'

Her figure shimmered and she was once again standing before them in full diamond glory.

'Listen, Emma! I'm not worried for myself!' he seized her forearms – marveling at his outburst of courage.

Wall exploded behind him – hot blast pushed Alex forward and somehow he landed on his back. There was blackness around him – Alex was blind and deaf and strangely calm – he could stay like this forever. Suddenly, the pressure on his chest grew and he heard a voice:

_Still alive… Brainless idiot._

Slowly he blinked his eyes open and met Emma's intent gaze mere inches from his face.

_Where's nowhere to run now._

* * *

Charles stared at the painfully familiar ceiling in wonder.

Indeed, it looked like ceiling in Erik's house – he has previously learned all intricate wooden patterns by heart on his first day there.

Surroundings slowly came into focus – Charles turned his head to the right – afraid and hopeful at the same time. The owner of the said house was currently sleeping in the most uncomfortable position imaginable – body slumped on the floor, elbows on the bed, face down on the worn blanket. Apparently, Erik was using Charles' hand instead of pillow. Even looking at him stirred up sympathy.

New senses woke up as soon as he opened his eyes.

His mind was dragged to Erik's this instant – the greedy need to feel, to perceive, to behold. Charles shuddered – shaken and excited by the whirlpool of emotions, feelings, dreams, memories – everything which made up the current flow of Erik's mind overwhelmed his own. How dared he, in the fit of arrogance, – Charles scolded himself. Presumptuous fool! It was akin to drinking the whole ocean in one gulp. Charles retreated so fast that his head was spinning from exertion. Charles saw a flash of his own image in Erik's head – better not succumb to impulses. He has to breathe. Nice, deep breaths will help. And furthermore, he must be more careful.

Erik snapped as if Charles' mind set off the alarm.

He looked up and – holy goodness – Charles noticed how grey his complexion was – how much sleep did he manage to get?

'Charles, what's wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?'

Well, that's a fine question, because the last thing he remembers – rough stone under his back, the voice, and blood and his futile attempts to hold on.

Charles carefully lifted his unoccupied hand – he expected to see ugly scars or what remains after cutting up a hand to draw blood – sunray gently lit clean, smooth skin. This is the right hand – understood Charles and slowly flexed his fingers – and – oh lord, they obeyed. His hand was whole and unmarred again. Excellent – brightened up Charles. If only he could understand how it happened.

Erik was wearily watching him entire time.

Now and then, his thoughts slipped over the hastily thrown barrier like warm ocean waves and Charles could not help but overhear the echo of care, heartwarming tenderness and worry. He didn't answer Erik – he realized – caught up in his speculations. Charles sighed aloud. He's not being polite again. He was not sure that his voice won't betray him, so – he mentally readied himself – he has to answer like this.

_I'm alright. However, I don't remember how I turned out in your house. Thought, I was too far away._

Erik winced and immediately tried to hide the grimace.

_Am I too loud? I'm very sorry, my friend. It still feels bad…_

'Charles, where does it hurt? What can I do?' rasped Erik. He was hovering over Charles and clearly didn't know what to do with his hands. Erik, for some reason, didn't dare touch him.

_I'm fine, Erik. Please, calm your mind._

Erik's frantic consciousness resonated with enormous energy – Charles wanted to bask in it, to dive in the very depth and experience everything. He was hardly holding himself in check.

_Sorry to alarm you. I meant – my control is bad, but I learn…_

He forced his lips into obedience and smiled.

From Erik's point of view it was pathetic pretense.

Charles agreed. But the truth was – the memory of their last conversation has just come back in a rush. Oh dear, now he knows what was wrong. He knew what he planned to say to Erik.

_Erik, please, listen to me. No matter how long I search, I can't find the proper words to express my gratitude to you._

Even now he sounds like the epitome of portentousness. Charles sped up. There was noticeable stinging in his eyes.

_I'm really sorry that I offended you then… after everything you've done for me… _

Erik's outburst was more livid than he anticipated.

Charles stifled a hiccup and readied himself. Better deal with it now than later.

'Oh, no! You won't do that again!' he grabbed Charles' shoulders – he was just preparing to sit – and shook. 'No to apologizing! Shut up! Just shut up!'

Erik abruptly seized his face in both palms and moved closer. Charles felt hot, harsh lips on his. He sighed in surprise. Never wasting any possibility, Erik usurped his mouth with well recognizable fury.

Subtle mental barrier broke into pieces.

Charles was falling into infinite vortex.

Charles was gone; he dissolved in Erik's mind and let Erik come into his own. Erik stilled for a moment – having felt a foreign presence. Then he kissed him even harder than before, captured him in the tight embrace and put a hand on the back of Charles' neck, ran fingers through his hair.

And Charles was drowning – he was drowning in Erik's love. It surrounded him like a warm, soft cloud and for a short moment he was frightened – and what if Charles can't love Erik back with the same devotion. Of course you can – said someone. He was not sure who.

Loving Erik comes so natural and easy.

Erik was the first to pull away.

Reluctantly, that is.

'If visual demonstration was not enough, I shall repeat it aloud. Charles Xavier, I love you.'

_Charles Francis Xavier, my friend._

Surprised Erik was so funny that Charles laughed with joy.

'We've not been properly introduced, mister Lehnsherr. Yet you want to move so fast…'

_Charles… Don't tease me._

_Wow, you can speak to me like that. This is fascinating how fast you've learned…_

Erik was a quick study.

So wonderful that one can talk without moving his lips.

They have been kissing languidly – it took both of them long to finally learn each other anew. Learn through slow kisses, through gentle exploratory touches and quiet inhales and exhales. There was no suggestive intent in Erik's touches – he was trying to make sure that Charles was alive, was here and Charles, in his turn, was delighted to lay his hands on those tense muscles and smooth away all worries. They were both tired and if sparks of excitement sometimes made one of them shudder in anticipation – lips and tongues continued to move in delightful synch.

Poor Erik is so exhausted. Charles has to find out something important while he still has capacity to stay awake.

Charles softly pulled away. He saw himself through Erik's eyes and his face heat up – damn blush will haunt him to his death bed. Ruffled hair scattered on the pillow – it has grown too long; eyes dark and huge; and lips – already swollen and redder than usual. Erik wanted him like this, thought him attractive and gorgeous. After so many weeks in the jungles… Charles can't be…

'Charles, what's wrong?'

Erik pulled back and frowned, agitated.

'Everything's fine. More than fine, actually, but, Erik… I still don't remember. After everything that happened to me…'

Erik firmly clasped Charles' closest hand and interlaced their fingers.

'How did I get back here?'

'You brought us in a flash – one second and - viola,' Erik informed. 'I thought you'd just look it up in my head.'

He put two fingers to his temple.

'How do we call this, by the way?'

'Telepathy, according to the Society for Psychical Research. So embarrassing, Erik. I must confess I thought they were sciolists…'

Erik threw back his head and laughed.

'Looks like we have to let go of many believes.'

He held out his hand and the familiar metal briefcase hovered over the table, slowly floating in circles.

Charles blinked and produced a delighted noise – not a squeak, thank you very much.

'Fascinating, Erik! Oh dear, it flies!'

'I can move metal. Whatever this is, it doesn't work with other things. There is almost no metal in the jungles – I could have noticed it much later.'

Both of them were lost in their own thoughts for a brief moment.

In the end it was Charles who broke the silence.

'Erik, what do we do, then?'

Erik clearly understood what was meant by that gawky question. He sat, intently looking Charles in the eye:

'We leave our lives, what else,' he put the case down on the table. 'There's something I'd like to do, but I realized that I can't start it without a singly ally.'

Charles sat up on the bed, masking the sinking feeling in his gut.

'You have no idea how much I need you. Charles, I want you by me side. Always. You and I, only imagine, how we can change the world. Especially now!'

While Erik waited for his answer, the silence in the air was comprised of transparent agitation. Charles has reordered his thoughts, noting that Erik's presence made the process easier and more efficient.

There's so much good in the world. It's worth fighting for. Just… Enough with blood. He's already… One must look for another ways – they're on the threshold of a new century, after all. Things are destined to change.

Charles felt the corners of his mouth lifting up.

This time it seemed right.

Erik interpreted his expression correctly and they shared a private, hesitant smile. One of many – Charles dared to hope.

'We shall do this…' Erik was betrayed by questioning intonation.

Charles decided to cheer him up. Serious matters like this have to be taken more lightly. Otherwise, it seems too dramatic.

He grinned so wide that his cheeks ached from the strain:

'Let's find out together!'

* * *

The decision to stay in the house to rest and recuperate in so many ways was completely mutual.

Civilized world will wait.

He's found Charles, Charles was alive and well, he didn't push Erik away and everything was great. These weeks' memories he will treasure in the deepest corner of his heart – time full of joy, love, serenity and… bickering from time to time – because Charles was Charles, after all.

Raven came in the evening of the day Charles has regained consciousness. She was thinner than before and Erik sighed in defeat – somehow he has become a breadwinner in this weird relationship. Charles was so happy to see Raven that he ran to her as if hoping that she would fall into his arms. This is panther, for god's sake. Charles glowered.

_Heard that._

Erik failed to stifle a weary sigh – life with Charles was very promising, indeed.

Charles decided to catch up with his research, saying that his guilty conscience shall torture him at night if he returns empty-handed. Erik didn't appreciate the bad pun – especially coming from Charles, who was rarely able to get a good night's sleep, no matter how much he tried to put a brave façade for Erik. Well, at least that thing, the voice, has healed his body – enough to be grateful for.

Erik went hunting every day and was officially in charge of preparing food.

Raven, the sly creature, practically moved in. Erik was idly cataloguing different ways to ward her off in the future. After all, jungles are her home. What will she do when he and Charles will board the ship to England?

Erik was worried that Charles will be troubled by the fate of his companions. Erik asked him directly – anxious about the situation which had nearly cost him the man he loved. From now on, he will always stay by his side. But with Charles, philosophically mused Erik, you never know what future keeps in store. This time, for instance, Charles only smiled and reassured Erik that his friends were fine. Telepathy is a formidable power – concluded Erik and never breached the subject again.

Days went by.

First few days there was a lot of kissing – both of them hungry for contact. Erik never thought himself one into tenderness, but Charles made him change his mind. However, soon Erik could no longer resist the temptation and started, subtly at first, running his hands under Charles' shirt, feeling his body and caressing smooth skin. Erik almost didn't wear clothes himself but Charles stubbornly refused to follow his example.

Once he caught Charles shirtless just on the same spot he first saw him with Raven.

He quietly came up and pulled him closer. Charles shuddered at unexpected contact and looked up at Erik with wild, desperate eyes. Erik lowered him on the flower-grass bed and started with kisses all over his face, gently biting eager lips and stroking nipples. Then, Erik moved to Charles' neck – liking and sucking, worrying skin between his teeth prompting Charles to shiver and moan. Satisfied, Erik played with hardened nipples with his fingers and tongue – he took his time cataloguing reactions: soft gasps, sudden inhales and quiet moans. Finally, Charles was arching wonderfully beneath him – already hard – biting wet dark-red lips in anticipation.

Without warning he swapped places with Charles and held him close, dragging up for a kiss. They were pressed chest to chest and Charles groaned at unexpected friction irritating his sensitive nipples.

Again, Erik didn't want to rush him.

He waited.

Charles was loudly breathing in and out – the blue of his eyes obscured by black pupils – all aglow with delight. Their breath mingled and no one dared to make the first move. Erik would wait. It was worth it.

In a minute Charles gave up and reached out for the kiss.

The taste of his soft, full lips was driving Erik mad. He stroked Charles' back and prompted him to move. Charles quickly caught up with an idea and played along, lost in arousing friction.

Erik caressed his back – never breaking from the kiss – slowly following the line of the spine until he wrung his hands under the belt. Charles reacted like he always did when surprised – he gasped. Erik slid his hands lower and grabbed, lightly at first. Charles whimpered – that's right – sign to go on. Erik firmly squeezed his buttocks and started to knead flesh in his hands, forcing Charles to moan louder. He needs more, decided Erik and experimentally spread firm flesh with thumbs. How he wished to get rid of those goddamn trousers – but Erik loved good challenge. He'll get him off like this. Curious, Erik rubbed his thumbs along the crevice – his hands were literally tied – no room to do as he wanted. Erik managed to probe his index finger farther – found what he sought and gently circled the pucker – Charles stiffened and exhaled – more. Well, as if he can say no to Charles. Erik concentrated and thought about all things he wanted to do to him, how much he wanted to be buried deep inside him – he would be so good, so tight for Erik, he would look so beautiful impaled on Erik's cock, thrashing and whimpering beneath him, begging Erik to take him again and again, hot and desperate and eager to be taken apart… With this Erik pressed his fingertip in.

Charles cried out, his body tensed like a bow, and then he slumped on Erik's chest – breathing uneven and ragged. Erik hugged him – he noticed that Charles likes to be held. His own arousal reminded him that he needs his hand for something urgent, but Erik stoically held Charles until he came from his high.

_Erik… My love, Erik, you are… Erik…_

Charles repeated his name like dozens of times but Erik didn't mind. Instead, he felt surge of pride and – to hell with it – he just liked how Charles pronounced his name, even if he did it inside his head.

_Erik, may I… umm… reciprocate?_

Charles had to take his time to come up with phrase like that. Gods, thought Erik, help me…

Timidly, Charles reached for his cock and grabbed. He hid his face in the juncture of Erik's shoulder and Erik felt wet, hot breaths on his neck. It should be quite uncomfortable for Charles – judging by the angle – but Erik didn't want to overwhelm him so far.

In the evening, on the memorable day of their first kiss, they were having dinner outside on the grass – even Raven lazily stretched nearby. Charles cleared his throat and waited until Erik looked up from fruits he was peeling for them. Charles, blushing and stammering, and then completely changed over to mindspeech told him that he has to warn Erik, because he's never done it with men, Erik knows what he means, basically he knows what to do, but not with men, and, to be honest, he hadn't done it much, not very often and so… Erik had to shut him up by tackling him to the ground and kissing every inch of lovely face, devouring his sweet mouth and silently promising Charles that he'll make it good, the best, actually.

Charles in bed was a demanding, sensual creature. He was also very generous and willingly surrendered his body and his brilliant mind for Erik, to do everything he's ever wanted. Erik's prior task was to grand him as much pleasure as he was able to take.

They shared the bed at night. From the start it went like this – Erik embraced Charles – tucked under the blanket he confiscated in the same cannibal settlement – stolen from some poor traveller – because Charles claimed he was cold. Later, Erik start using his mouth and his hands to help Charles reach his peak and then he quietly fell asleep, babbling some nonsense while Erik cleaned him off and tucked back under soft blanket.

Every item of Charles' very limited wardrobe went down with a fight.

At last, he had Charles completely naked in his bed. Erik waited for his nod and once he got it, Erik decided that time has come to prepare Charles for main event. He's fantasized about this for a while and his amazing, smart Charles, having read Erik's silent plea, rolled on his stomach. After a little nudge from Erik he spread his legs and arched his back. Erik prepared him carefully. Don't rush – he had to remind himself. Stretch him good. Let him get used to your fingers. Let him come like this and only after a while… He squeezed his eyes tight. Must keep himself in check. Don't rush – don't hurt Charles.

After he came with the help of Charles working his cock with more confidence than before – they fell together in bed, basking in afterglow, and Charles asked him aloud in a hoarse, sleepy voice:

'Erik, is something wrong? I thought, I understood what you wanted me to do, right? Because if I… I want to know…'

Erik saw where this was leading.

'Nonsense. You're doing it right! You're are wonderful,' Erik held his chin up.

_And I don't want to hurt you._

_But you…_

_Hush, go to sleep. We're taking it slow._

Today he deposited Charles on his chest – Erik wanted to see his face. Moonlight has made Charles paleness more pronounced – his lips were parted, eyelashes trembled and rebellious hair fell on his forehead and flushed cheekbones. Charles constantly complained and tried to cut it with Erik's knife, but managed to make it worse – separate strands proudly stood out in all directions. Erik liked his hair and told Charles that. Maybe that's why he finally stopped his useless attempts to trim it.

They have moved to four fingers tonight. Erik rolled Charles on his back and got ready.

He moved slowly, so slowly into that wet, waiting heat that he didn't dare to breath. Charles was shaking and sobbing under him, around him.

_Erik… Too much. So big, Erik, please…_

Erik stilled and let Charles get used to new sensation and stretching. It was fantastic, but, he gritted his teeth, if he doesn't move now, he would explode.

_Go on…Move…_

Charles was already losing it – his words burned order right into Erik's mind and he furiously snapped his hips. Erik had to bit his lip – pain cleared his mind and he was moving more cautiously, gradually increasing the rhythm.

What an unbelievable power – thought Erik, rubbing circles into Charles sweaty back and kissing puffy lips. They lay under the blanket together and Charles was leaking blissful satisfaction all over Erik and, probably, all over the whole forest. They were only starting to learn how to control their powers and Charles was already exceptionally good. The wonder, named Charles Xavier, currently stroking his half hard cock, was the best thing he could hope to find on six continents.

_One more time, Charles? Aren't you sore?_

_You shouldn't sound so smug, my friend. Especially, when you are already so interested._

Charles twisted his clever hand and Erik groaned.

_I want you. This last time in here… I want to remember this._

Erik knew what he meant. He felt it too – sadness and reluctance to leave this house, desire to prolong their happiness as much as possible. Right now, in this moment he's making love to Charles and nothing else matters.

Tomorrow they are hitting the road early in the morning.

As expected, it was difficult to explain Raven that she can't follow them. Charles was shaking his head – telepathy didn't work on animals.

Fortunately, on the eighth day of the trip Raven didn't appear.

Erik stated that first of all they had to go to the city – he would snatch money stored in the secret place. They will need new clothes, temporary apartment and tickets – the rest can wait.

Charles paled more and more when they were coming closer to the city boundary.

_Anxiety, anticipation mixed with fear and too many minds at once, but I'll be fine, really._

Erik gave him a skeptical look.

_This is a splendid opportunity to strengthen the barriers in my mind. Please, don't worry. This is like an exercise in filtering and concentration._

_Of course, I'll worry. This is you we are speaking about._

Charles indignantly huffed in response and ignored him for two hours.

Erik was lucky – he found the suitable clothes in the same shop he visited earlier. Charles was not. He reluctantly put on a rather nice suit of military cut. It was navy and fitted him perfectly and it was the only item they were able to find at the moment.

Charles was standing by the window of their opulent hotel suit now and clawing at the tightly fit collar.

Perks of civilization and wealthy loaded.

Erik admired the view from his armchair, tasting excellent coffee.

Gorgeous.

Brilliant.

Marvellous.

His.

'Everybody was staring at us, at me,' he glanced at Erik. 'They thought I was another foreign officer – military arrives every day. No wonder people are confused. I really need to change into something else…'

'The war is near – what do you think,' Erik put the tiny cup aside. 'And I don't like it either, but even with our powers we can't turn the wheel back. Though, you, when I think about it – you can try.'

Charles rolled his eyes and stared outside. The storm was coming. A very powerful one.

'How are you?' quietly asked Erik.

'Better,' he smiled, fond, and wanted to add something, when suddenly gasped and doubled.

Erik dashed to him and helped Charles to straighten up.

_Erik, it's begun. But more importantly, boys are there. We need to hurry._

Smoke obscured vision but Charles was confidently leading the way. They ran to the central square and Erik felt a lot of metal around. He inhaled dust, powder and blood. People were shouting like mad, someone was wailing before them, but he couldn't see a thing.

Strong gush of wind cleared the air just on time. Shots rang out. Erik's response was instinct – he stepped in front of Charles and raised his hand. Bullets fell to the ground at their feet and Erik exhaled.

Stop. Why so quiet?

Time froze. Soldiers stopped moving and stilled – petrified. Entire street was frozen up as far as reached the eye.

Charles was holding two fingers to his temple – a mocking gesture served him the anchor – he explained.

He sheepishly smiled and offered:

_Apparently, I've just learned how to block all noise in the city._

'Professor!?'

Ginger boy was yelling hysterically and running in their direction, smearing tears with dirty hands. He stood before Charles and asked:

'Is that you, professor? I, I never…' he hiccupped.

Charles, after a moment of hesitation, stepped closer and hugged him.

'Glad to know you are well, Sean!'

Emma came from the same direction, helping the stumbling fair-haired man, not much older than Sean. Alex – he guessed. He met him in the jungles along with doctor McCoy.

Alex squared his shoulders and took the offered hand. Charles smiled and probably spoke to him wordlessly, because Erik heard nothing.

_Herr Eisenhardt, what a pleasant surprise!_

_This is fate, I suppose._

_Oh, do you also possess the power to read minds?_

_Fortunately, I don't, but I do know what a telepath is._

_Excuse me?_

_Charles calls it telepathy. The power you have._

_Emma, how are you?_

Charles included himself in their silent dialogue.

Curiouser and curiouser – marveled Erik.

They went to estate all together.

When Erik stepped out of the carriage, he smelled a very familiar scent.

'Raven is hiding in those bushes,' grimly reported he – and watched as Charles' eyebrows went up.

'Well, she is a real master of disguise if she managed to follow us unnoticed.'

'Now, they are in the kitchen, I think. I may call them…' Sean tried to be helpful.

'I know, Sean. Thank you!'

Charles clasped his shoulder and stared ahead, seeing something beyond Erik's capacity.

_Let's go, my friend. I warned them. By the way, I have an idea and I suppose we have to discuss it in private._

_There are other activities both of us can enjoy doing in private._

Erik was satisfied by the blush painting Charles' cheeks pink. He enjoyed it immensely. While Charles was gesticulating, telling his companions about his wonderful rescue, describing some weird things to Sean and Moira and saying how he missed everybody, he was still wearing the blush. Blush which made him Erik's.

Erik glowered at the brown-haired woman who rushed to embrace Charles and made him flinch and instantly shudder. That was not her fault, but nevertheless…

Charles looked at Erik with plaintive eyes.

_I'm sorry, Erik. This is nothing._

_What did I tell you about apologizing? It never ends good, so quit right now. And, Charles, do you think me stupid? I know about nightmares._

Charles blanched.

Erik didn't want to do it, didn't want to make him feel guilty or helpless. He tried to put as much warmth and care in his response as possible.

_Charles, this is fine, but you don't need to deal with this alone._

'Ahem, man, we are just happy to sit there and watch you staring at each other, but what about the rest of the story?' grumbled the owner of the house.

Charles tried to clear his throat and thus mask the embarrassment.

'Logan, shut up!' said the woman from before and stood up. 'They are probably tired. Charles, here's the key to your room and mister Lehnsherr can come with me. I will show…'

'Umm, thank you, dear, but there's no need,' managed Charles and also stood up.

Erik enjoyed different levels of confusion and bewilderment on their faces which blew up as soon as he pulled Charles close. He felt a twinge of anxiety from Charles and in response pressed him tighter.

After all, heavy doors of the bedroom closed behind them and Charles went limp in his arms. Erik leaned on the door and gently maneuvered Charles, letting him cling to Erik's jacket. They stood there in complete silence.

In a little while, Charles shifted and raised eyes, once again filled with enthusiasm.

_So, this idea I told you about. What if I try to establish a mental link between us? In future, it'll prove useful. If you want, that is…_

Erik read the latent meaning – if you still want me.

It made Erik wild – to listen to such nonsense.

He demonstrated Charles the full extent of his desire right at the door.

Falling asleep with Charles curled up next to him in the large spacious bed, he realized one thing – wherever he was, he was at home.

He was with Charles.


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_ three days later_

_._

_._

_._

'I can't believe that we're on the same ship!'

Sean bent over the railing so far, that it seemed he might fly or... rather fall down.

_Sean, be careful…_

'Professor?!' he gulped.

_Sorry to startle you. See you at dinner._

Alex turned head in his direction.

'I honestly don't give a damn if we lose you or not, but don't upset him. Clear?'

'I never… What's come into you? Are you in the bad mood again?'

'I'm not. I'm thinking. There are so many facts that just don't match. What about our powers – what the hell is this… Is it temporary? Is it permanent? You know, I've forgotten almost everything about our journey – as if ages have passed… That's unnatural.'

'We can ask professor and his friend. What's so funny?'

Alex chuckled at the word 'friend'.

And more than that – this Lehnsherr fellow gave him the creeps.

'Nothing. Absolutely nothing!'

'…thought he would kill me when I went to give professor his diary.'

'What a loss that would have been!' smirked Alex. 'Next time, when you do something as silly as approach the person – who was tortured and nearly murdered – from behind, you'll think twice. Are you blind? You must have seen how he acts around us all. Be sure to open your eyes once in a while and really look around. You are…You'll see a lot of interesting things.'

'Oh,' Sean fumbled with his sleeve. 'Oh my god… The professor is still…'

Well, he's really thick – mused Alex somewhat darkly. Thick but so carefree…

'Stop interrupting me. I've not finished!'

'Don't scold the boy, teacher,' murmured Emma leaning against his back.

Sean suddenly developed the previously unknown ability to evaporate in the air.

_I like this strict and reprimanding tone of yours. Who would have thought…_

'Is this an offer?'

_Who knows…_

_._

_._

_._

_._

Charles was exhausted, tired and sleepy for three days. He did it. He created a stable mental connection between Erik and himself, but the attempt left him out of energy. Now Charles was occupying a soft bed in his cabin, without any desire to leave it in the immediate future. Well, he still needs to come to dinner.

Erik was sitting in the posh armchair beside the bed reading a book. Charles offered Darwin and it was a good advice. Erik dutifully turned page after page, betraying no signs of boredom. He noticed Charles' mental probing and smiled. It works wonderful – they are able to act in perfect synch due to the link. Charles had to spend a certain amount of time on the astral plane – it really existed, imagine his wonder. The experience was useful if only exhausting. But now Charles remembers.

_Erik..._

He called without opening his eyes.

When Erik focused on him, he went on.

_You won't like it, I guess, but I need to show you..._

He calmed Erik's worry with a light and he hoped warm touch.

_I remember now. Remember how I was captured by keepers, how they tried to feed them my blood. I died then, Erik. For real._

Mattress dipped when Erik sat beside him.

_They brought me back for a reason. Emma and I we have their blessing. Telepathy, I assume. In our blood there is the key to the secrets of the universes – the endless evolution._

He tried to share the images with Erik.

Fire which was so much more. Cycles of life and death. In perpetuity… a motion.

_Resembles the image of the mythical Phoenix, burning and resurrecting in never ending cycle. This is only a small fragment of the whole picture. As it goes, this force is not alone in the world – it has an opponent… if we use the earth terminology here… someone, whose purpose is to end the cycle, to absorb the energy. To devour worlds. And, yes, you're right, my friend. Our world is next…_

Charles rolled on his back and added, looking into grey serious eyes:

'They give me another chance for a reason, Erik. I can see it now – lots of minds sparkling in the darkness – people like you and me. We are no longer alone. The Lost City fell, and with it fell the barrier that was only slowing down natural process. Armando didn't even come close to the Lost City and yet he also can do wonderful things. And many others…'

'Hmm, I can see what you want to say,' Erik's amused voice and mischievous flash in his eyes unsettled Charles a bit.

'I believe that knowing that we know, we need to help those people.'

He paused expectantly.

'Of course. Because somebody has to,' nodded Erik, faking seriousness and laughing inside.

'Erik!'

'I won't talk you out of it anyway. So, the only option I've got is to lead the parade. And thank you for the book – Darwin was right.'

Only Erik can spice the grave situation up with cynicism.

World is in danger.

'So, we shall guide new species?'

'That's not quite what I have in mind!'

Erik pressed Charles to the bed and said in a low implying voice:

'I know you well, professor. You'd like to help the majority of young troubled idiots to get enlightened. Prove me wrong. But, you know, my methods are more dynamic and… practical.'

'Can't deny…' Charles' foolish heart was beating faster and faster, 'May I suggest that we combine two approaches.'

_We can try._

Erik's lips are his supernatural power. Erik is a unique and beautiful being. Charles still couldn't believe his luck.

Before surrendering to Erik's mercy, he decided that the final word should rest with him.

_My friend, this is only the beginning._

_._

_._

* * *

_If you've read this far my gratitude will be endless._

_Again, thank you for reading and especially for those who had time to drop a comment. You guys are the best of the best._

_Anyway, this story is pretty chlishedand I know where I tried and failed to create some plot devices... Don't be mad._

_Have a nice part of the day!_

_Lot's of love!_


End file.
